


Indifference

by Ficfrog



Series: Aftermath [1]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:49:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 63,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27902500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ficfrog/pseuds/Ficfrog
Summary: It started with a burnt shirt, and Charlotte really didn't know how quickly this would all escalate.
Relationships: Jacob Seed/Original Female Character(s), John Seed/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Aftermath [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150583
Comments: 32
Kudos: 121





	1. Blue Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Please be nice. :)  
> Thank you for reading.

Charlotte wasn’t exactly sure how long it had been since she had been at Seed Ranch, maybe it had been a few months – Hell, at this point, it could have been years, the time seemed to drift and amalgamate into one big, dreadfully long day.

She wasn’t even a local of Hope County, she was once a cook for a diner out of state, having decided to pack up her things and go on a journey of a lifetime, backpacking through the land trying to find herself. Her decision to cut through Hope County had been purely a last minute one, as the brochure boasted beautiful, picturesque views, quiet camping spots, friendly locals – clearly the brochure had been _just a tad_ out of date.

On her first day, she had been picked up by a Peggie van – they promised her a ride into town, and at that point, she didn’t understand the significance of the sigil on the side of their truck, nor the uniforms – hindsight was indeed 20/20. Of course she was naïve, and wasn’t aware that their journey would take her to a drug-filled lake to _atone_ or whatever the living fuck that was.

Being naturally meek by nature and never one to stir the pot, Charlotte just did what they told her to. If she were to escape, she would need the right opportunity and so far, it just hadn’t presented itself. Just because she was quiet, didn’t mean that she was that stupid to run, so she just did what she was told.

She read the book that was thrust upon her, she sat in the chair and tried not to squirm whilst sloth was etched into her arm by a dude with a beard – seriously, did no one ever introduce themselves anymore? And she waited for her opportunity.

Charlotte lay in her designated cot, stretching and feeling the satisfying click of her joints pop while she stared at the ceiling of her room. She couldn’t fire a gun, she couldn’t sew a stitch, couldn’t hunt, couldn’t even drive properly under pressure – the Cult had picked up the biggest dud they could have and that in itself was enough to make Charlotte continue to thrive within the project.

She was a bit of a petty bitch like that. All the Cult knew about her was that she was an unemployed drifter, and that was about it. So, Charlotte did one of the things she knew best, she became an invisible ghost and loitered the halls of Seed Ranch – mostly cleaning, doing laundry, the bare minimum _women tasks_ , the men called it.

Avoiding the radar of the Herald had been her key goal, because in the long run, it would be easier to disappear if the guy had no idea who you were, or at least that’s what Charlotte was banking on. Stepping up from her cot, she began to get dressed in her signature uniform and sighed, fixing her hair into a ponytail before walking out the door.

Today was laundry day, one cannot be late for laundry day.

Her boots echoed on the wooden flooring as she made her way through the compound towards the laundry room, clicking her fingers in a way that would have made her Grandmother tut disapprovingly – ‘Arthritis, Charlotte.’ Honestly, arthritis is the least of her worries right now.

Opening the door to the laundry room, she expected the smell of fresh linen to be prominent, only to smell burning fabric. Holly stood in front of her, iron poised over an expensive blue shirt, staring wide-eyed at Charlotte who in turn gaped back at her.

“…What are you doing?” Charlotte’s voice croaked in disuse. Holly Pepper, the girl who was very-well known for sleeping with the big man on campus himself, stared back down at the shirt before addressing Charlotte with fear.

“I…I just wanted to do something nice…for him.” Charlotte felt the fear crawl up her spine, powerwalking to the ironing board to see the damage that had been done. A iron-shaped burn stared back at them menacingly, the blue silk damaged beyond repair.

“Isn’t this his favourite shirt?” Holly nodded to Charlotte, eyes still wide. Both women stared back down, a silence filled the air before Charlotte sighed, pinching her nose and closing her eyes in frustration.

“Right. So. How are we gonna do this?” Holly shook her head, red hair bundled at the top of her crown in a messy knot. Charlotte stared back, and gathered the shirt in her hands, folding it and putting it back on the ironing board.

“You gonna tell him? I haven’t spoken to the dude since he tattooed me, and you’re pretty familiar as it is, so…you should y’know, atone?” Holly stepped back as if she had been punched in the face.

“No way! You’re the laundry girl! You do it?” Charlotte stared incredulously back, Holly was somehow the closest thing to a friend she had here, and that was saying something.

“You burned the fucking shirt! You do it!” Charlotte pointed comically to said shirt before Holly’s temper began to rear at her.

“Yeah, but he will kick my ass, it’s about time you met him anyway!”

“Oh, so my ass is deserving to be kicked by your boyfriend because you can’t figure out how to iron a fucking shirt?” Holly shrugged before walking towards the door, waving her fingers in a way that said ‘toodles’.

“You are so fucking useless, Holly.” Charlotte sighed, picking up the shirt and walking towards the door and towards the Kitchen, where she thinks the Herald will be. Funnily enough, she had never done anything that led for her to interact with the man after the art he put on her skin, never actively seeking him out but seeing him around none-the-less. Charlotte liked to blend into the walls, like the ghost she was destined to be, so this was a big thing for her.

He either kicks her ass now, or he kicks her ass later when he looks for the blue silk that cost more than what she could have earned in a year.

Pausing to take a breath, she walked into the kitchen, seeing John sitting at the counter with a coffee in hand, newspaper in the other. He always looked so well put together, hair immaculately in place, beard trimmed, and she herself made sure his clothes were pristine, it’s just his rage that is well-known to get the better of him.

Twisting her hands in the fabric, she walked across to the other side of the counter, unsure of how to proceed with the admission. Looking up from his newspaper, John raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to begin.

“…Hi.” Charlotte stuttered, while he continued to stare, confusion beginning to cloud his face. Okay, perhaps that was the weirdest way to open the line of communication. Looking down to the fabric, she apprehensively set it on the counter in front of him, burn side up. His eyes flicked down, trailing across the stark sloth tattoo across her forearm, to the ruined fabric.

“…Now what happened here?” Charlotte continued to stare forward, eyes avoiding him, watching him trace the silk.

“…Iron accident.” She couldn’t look up at him, but she could feel his stare on her skin, piercing through her like a hot poker. Or an ice shard. She couldn’t figure out which one. Hearing a sigh, John lurched forward, dragging her across the counter with his fingernails digging into her wrist, exposing her tattoo upward.

“Sloth seems very accurate right now.” Charlotte flinched at the sound of a switchblade, still looking downward as she felt the tip of it begin to trace the lettering. She avoided this dude for a reason, she avoided the lot of them for a fucking reason. Opening her eyes, she looked to the plate to John’s left – perhaps she could smash it, and then maybe stab him and get the everlasting fuck out of there finally, perhaps she could throw that omelette in his face as a distraction of some sort—

Wait. That omelette was burnt. That was the poorest excuse for an omelette she had ever seen. Charlotte’s fingers twitched, still pulled over the counter, she looked up and her blue eyes connected with his.

“I can make you a new omelette. A better one.” He blinked as if she had grown a second head and within a second, released her – switchblade still elevated above her arm. She leaned back and gripped her wrist, rubbing where his nails had bit into her skin.

“You want to trade an omelette in retribution for the burning of a shirt that I paid more than you’re worth for—”

“Yes.” Something triggered behind his eyes, something about her admission of yes was enough to spark his curiosity. He leaned back in his bar stool, arms extended for her as if to say ‘go ahead’. Charlotte was back in her element within an instant, racing through the kitchen and wrenching drawers open for implements, working carefully but quickly.

He watched, arms crossed over his chest as she glided through the kitchen, as if it were the first time he had seen her – really seen her. The silence was only culled by the clutter she was generating as she moved, the crack of eggshells and the browning of butter. Charlotte tried to ignore his stare as she worked, listening to the periodic tapping of his fingers against the marble of the counter.

Sliding the omelette onto a plate, she placed it in front of him, feeling her fingers tremble as she tucked them in front of her. He hummed as he stared at it, picking up a fork and staring back at her, taking a bite, indifference only settling on his face. Charlotte heard he was a lawyer before all of this, and she could see why, not a flicker of emotion passed through his eyes as he chewed.

Placing the fork down, he wiped his mouth with a nearby napkin and grinned at her, she felt a wash of relief pass through her.

“Get out.” She had never sprinted as fast out the door as she had in that moment.

* * *

It had been a few days since then, and honestly, she was surprised she wasn’t dead yet. She had resumed her duties and ignored Holly for the majority of the time who had decided to come around to her senses later and attempted to apologise. Charlotte had avoided the kitchen since then too, having decided to just feed on the scraps she had stolen from the mess hall as per usual. She didn’t want to fall under his intense gaze, wanting to crawl back into the walls where she belonged.

Charlotte looked into the mirror of the bathroom, staring at the pallor of her skin, the freckles that dusted her cheeks and sighed. She looked like absolute shit, she missed makeup, she missed her face masks, she missed all of that little shit she took for granted.

Washing her hands, she walked out of the bathroom towards the Library. It was vacuum day.

Passing through the halls, she trailed her fingers over nearby photo frames, humming a song she missed. God she missed Spotify, she missed the soft croons of The Doors, or the poppy tunes of Nicki Minaj – God, she’s in a Cult base thinking about missing fucking Nicki Minaj – Pushing the door open to the Library without knocking, she stopped mid-hum of Super Bass as four sets of eyes stared back at her.

“…Hello.” She could feel the annoyed glare of John Seed to her left, his arm resting on a nearby bookshelf. The other three stared blankly back at her, two men and a woman. She recognised Joseph Seed of course, the dude’s portrait was everywhere, so she assumed the others were Jacob Seed and Faith Seed.

Faith was pretty as a picture, Jacob was a fucking bear of a human being, taking up the room with intensity that made Charlotte shudder. Joseph was a calming influence, his hands folded in front of him, legs extended and crossed at the ankles.

“What are you doing in here?” John growled, stalking forward and grabbing her arm, pulling her back through the door into the corridor. Stuttering for an answer, she winced at the crushing force of his hand on her arm.

“You should be cooking in the kitchen, breakfast for my family.” Charlotte blinked upwards, looking up into John’s eyes in confusion. What? John paused, releasing her arm and his hands finding home on his hips.

“…Holly didn’t tell you.” Charlotte shook her head slowly.

“Holly didn’t tell me.”

“Go. They’re waiting.” She didn’t need to be told twice as she ran towards the kitchen, a menu formulating in her mind. She felt like she was in an episode of one of those cooking shows, the ones where they don’t tell you what you’re making until last minute. Charlotte rounded the kitchen and wrenched open the door to the fridge, haphazardly throwing ingredients onto the counter, probably ruining a few eggs in her rush.

“Fucking Holly, fucking John Seed, fucking Super Bass—” She furiously beat eggs in a bowl, almost forgetting to season the bastards. Honestly, Charlotte isn’t sure why she felt like she had run a marathon, but within half an hour she had completed an array of food. Dishes littered the kitchen counter – pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage – everything she could have made, she made it.

Her hair reeked of bacon fat, she had a few burns on her fingers from the cast iron, and she is pretty sure she dropped scrambled egg down her shirt while she was trying to scrape the remnants out of the pan. She looked like she had gone through battle and back, when, it was just the job she used to do for a living.

Running her hand through her hair, she retied her hair back into a bun on top of her head, a few stray hairs falling by her ears and leaned against the oven, not really sure of what to do next. Wiping her hands on her apron, she walked to the adjoining dining room and peeped through the door, seeing it empty. Assuming that is where they wanted to eat, she began to cart the food in with utensils, arranging it on the barren table with plates and napkins.

As if on cue, the Seeds stalked through and took their places amongst the seats as Charlotte leaned towards the back of the room. John stared at her, flicking his head in a way that told her to get out – Charlotte didn’t need to be told twice and walked back to clean the kitchen.

“I guess I got a new role…”

* * *

The thought of poisoning the Seeds had crossed her mind several times, she isn’t a saint but she is a major pussy, killing wasn’t something she did or could do, no matter how bad the people were that she had been feeding. Her laundry duties had been taken away from her within the coming days of her beginning to cook for John Seed, and although she loved to cook, she also loved the autonomy and invisibility of the laundry room.

It was much easier to hide in there and imagine her escape than it was to be in the kitchen and worry about the quality of food that she prepared her captor(s). A ruined shirt seemed like much more of a risk than giving the man in charge of her food poisoning, and that made her role all the more scarier.

When will he snap one day, deciding she wasn’t as good as his last cook, and just decided to kill her? When will she run out of her use, no matter how mundane her job was? Charlotte pondered this, absentmindedly wiping down a cast iron pan with a tea towel before hanging it from its designated spot above the oven. Flexing her fingers, she stretched, relishing the feeling of her bones popping once again.

The sound of a chair dragging itself across the wooden flooring made her jump, and she spun around to see John sitting down at the counter, fingers classed in front of him, eyes boring into her like a drill.

“Who are you?” The question was new, only one that had been asked a few times by Peggies at the Ranch – John had asked it long ago but with the amount of people who confess to him, it had probably only been a blip on his radar. Charlotte blinked and step backward, clasping her fingers in front of her and feeling the oven against her lower back.

_You could grab the pan and just break his face with it Charlie, and then just leave!_

She wasn’t going to do that. “C-Charlotte.”

“Charlotte.” He murmured her name, as if testing it on his tongue, shifting arm to lean on it as if he were already bored of her presence.

“How did you get here, Charlotte?”  
  
“I was passing through as a traveller, got picked up by your guys…the rest is history, I suppose.” She wrung her hands together, staring into his own. He hummed, his fingers beginning their own rhapsody against the marble of the counter again, something he tends to do a lot when she is within the realm of his kitchen.

“And how do you like it here?” She blinked, unsure if it was really a trick question or not. Every time he was in the room, she felt like she was cornered by wolves.

“…I’d prefer it if I could leave, in all honesty.” _If I’m gonna die, might as well go 100%._

“Do you now?” He smiled, a crooked one that made his eyes twinkle. Charlotte felt a tingle go up her spine, unsure if it were a good tingle or a bad tingle, and crossed her arms across her chest, staring pointedly out the window and away from his piercing eyes.

“Why did I tattoo Sloth on you?” She looked down and traced the tattoo on her arm with her fingers.

“You felt it was the best representation of my sin—”

“Why did I tattoo Sloth on you, Charlotte?” He cut her off, the tapping of his fingers ceasing. She knew he wasn’t asking why he gave it to her, more so why she deserved it.

“…is this a trick question?”

“It’s a question, nonetheless. Answer it.” His patience was beginning to already wear thin, the clipped tones in his voice suggested it.

“I—I didn’t do what my Grandmother wanted. I grew up wanting to be a Nun, literally, and she was happy with that, she wanted that. But I didn’t. I couldn’t be bothered, I wanted to experience life, but I didn’t want to dedicate my life to something I thought didn’t exist. She died, thinking it was my purpose. The last thing she said to me was that I was omitting my duties to God, that I was the living embodiment of Sloth.”

John stood up from his seat and began to walk around the counter, stalking towards her. His fingers trailing along the marble as his slow pace began to instil a slight fear within her. She stood still, eyes never wavering as he invaded her personal space, the oven behind her pressing hard into her lower back as he reached for a stray hair that had fallen out of her bun, tucking it behind her ear.

“I think Sloth isn’t your main sin, Charlotte.” His breath tickled her face as he spoke, crooning her name in a way that sent another shiver down her spine. She had eyes, the guy was insane but he was also handsome, the worst fucking combination.

Back in her heyday, she would have flirted back with him, but knowing who she was speaking to, that wasn’t a risk or a mess she wanted to get into. His hand found its way onto her hip, fingers digging and caressing small circles as she stared at him, eyes never once leaving hers. His gaze was dizzying, his cologne distracting, the intensity of the situation was getting to her and –

“I did also eat all the water crackers at my Cousin’s first communion and lied about it.” He blinked, taking a step back, an incredulous look painting his features.

“They…They had nothing to eat with the blood of Christ because…I ate all of them behind the pew.” He blinked once again before smirking, the smirk then transformed into a cackle, then into a full-blown laugh. She stood there in silence, while he howled, not really sure what to do.

“You really know how to ruin a moment, don’t you darling?” She shrugged, wiping her hands down her apron, allowing a small smile.

“It’s what I do.” He smirked, reaching out to run a thumb over her bottom lip, making her freeze in place once again.

“I can’t wait to peel the real sin from your skin.”

And she was the one to ruin a mood? Okay.

* * *

The announcement came a few days later – the announcement from Joseph to remove all female workers from Seed Ranch. It seems the unholy transgressions from Holly herself had gotten back to the Father and safe to say, John Seed was not a happy camper.

Charlotte had packed up her little possessions into a small tote that she had borrowed from the Ranch. As far as she was aware, it was time for her to move along to the Whitetail Mountains, under Jacob “The Bear” Seed himself, not that she minded. The intensity of working under John Seed was enough as it was, at least she could hide from Jacob – when she had cooked for him last, he barely had taken a bite, so it was easy for her to say that cooking won’t be something she would be doing anytime soon.

They stood along in a line outside the Ranch, awaiting for a convoy from the mountains. John Seed stood on the porch, fingers clutching into the wood of the balcony as he stared down at the women. Charlotte watched as he ran a hand through his beard, obviously keeping his temper at bay. Celibacy was expected of the Baptist, so it’s really his own damn fault.

Said Baptist walked down from the porch towards the gaggle of women, walking in a lazy stride towards her. Stopping in front of her, he crossed his arms.

“You gonna miss me?” She gave a small smile, unsure really of what he was doing. He leaned forward, resting his palm on her cheek, showing no emotion.

“You will come back to me.” She blinked confused, unsure of what the hidden meaning was behind his words. She was just the cook, she had no impact on his life other than his dietary requirements, so the whole action confused her.

“If I can’t have you, he can’t either.” 


	2. Fire

The ride to the Whitetail Mountains gave Charlotte a lot of time to reflect. Ignoring those around her, she pondered how she had exactly gotten into such a position - she had gone from being a cook, to a backpacker, to a kidnap victim, then back again to a cook, and once again, a kidnap victim travelling to an unknown location.

She was perhaps protected from the shitstorm of Hope County within the confines of Seed Ranch, having yet to see the rumours for herself that had circled around her when the other Peggies hadn't noticed her presence, or hadn't cared that she was in the vicinity. Sure, the tattoo on the skin/forced confession/forced confinement should have been a great indication, but in all honesty, she was just happy to be alive. Looking at her arm, she stroked the black ink that decorated her, gifted by John Seed himself, feeling nothing but apathy.

Perhaps she was fit for her sin - Sloth. The indifference she felt to the situation would have already sent her to a psychiatric facility in a heart beat. At first, she put it down as shock - you never know how you act within a situation until you're actually in it after all - and then it just stayed. She should be angry, terrified, even both emotions, combined into a tornado of turmoil that would send her reeling for a desperate attempt at an escape, but she wasn't. No sooner had she arrived into Hope County was she complicit in her surroundings, and that thought was perhaps the one thing that bothered her the most.

Perhaps she was just ready to die, ready to be with her Grandmother again. Charlotte never really had a strong will for anything, bar when she was younger and her brief infatuation with religion - she tended to stray from things when the going got tough, when things got way too hard. The fire burned out as soon as it was lit.

Charlotte wanted to only be a cook purely because she was good at it - having been taught from a young age by her parents, the idea that if she had _something_ as a hobby, she could have something to strive for, something she would want to do and be happy with it. They had been happy with her career path, her Grandmother not so much - she had promised her as a child to be a nun, and spent the remainder of her life picking at her for it. Grandma Evie was a tough nut, stubborn and rough around the edges, but she was devout more than anything.

Why did she confess that to John? Such a silly thing. Perhaps it was just a throwaway idea, to get him off her back. Peering out the window, Charlotte watched the forest deepen around her into a thick shroud, the trees loomed over her, confining her into the van. She wondered what St Francis would be like, wondered what Jacob would be like. Maybe she will finally die there.

* * *

It was the banging of a fist against metal that had brought her out of her slumber. Squinting, she rubbed her eyes ad looked around, noticing she was the only person remaining in the van.

"Have a good sleep?" She looked at the voice addressing her at the back of the van, a man dressed with a red balaclava and a rifle slipped over his shoulders stared back at her, scowling (which was only visible via his eyes). With a slight yawn, she nodded, before scooting out of the vehicle and landing on the gravel with a crunch. He loomed over her while she looked around, making her feel claustrophobic.

"You've missed orientation." He gave her a once over, over how she was dressed. John stressed it was important for women to _look the part_ when in the Ranch, so her white apron and blue dress that hung off of her loosely was standing out already in St Francis, as soldiers walked around the area. Opening her mouth to apologise, the Chosen turned swiftly and began to walk towards the entrance of St Francis, and Charlotte scrambled after him. 

They passed through the door and began rushing through the corridors, Charlotte felt like she had been dropped into a rabbit hole, trying to memorise her way even though the they were travelling too quick through different rooms. His build verses her build of 5'2 was enough to make her out of breath as she albeit jogged behind the Chosen, and he made no effort to slow down.

"Where are we going, sir?" He didn't respond, just lead her through another corridor before coming to an abrupt stop outside a door. Knocking twice, he waited as Charlotte stood behind him, playing with the hem of her apron. The door opened and there stood Jacob Seed, arms crossed and stood straight.

"Recruit from Seed Ranch, sir." The Chosen stepped aside and Jacob's gaze landed on Charlotte, unimpressed. Neither of them moved, even as the Chosen bid himself goodbye, stepping away from both Jacob and Charlotte. Eventually, Jacob beckoned Charlotte in with a nod and she followed him in, taking a seat on a wooden chair in front of his desk. Jacob took a seat behind his desk, arms remaining crossed - the silence was almost deafening as he observed her.

"Wouldn't the Cook be more suitable with Faith, or with Joseph? While John is in time out?" Charlotte blinked, finally looking up from her palms, the baritone of his voice sending a slight shiver down her spine. He was candid, that she could appreciate.

"I'm not exactly sure, sir."

"Well, I don't know what your purpose here would be other than maintenance." 

"I can do that, sir." He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk between them.

"You don't even know what I mean by maintenance--"

"I can do it." Wincing to herself as she accidentally cut him off, his gaze heavy on her shoulders. Silence returned as he stared, Charlotte stared forward to his hands -- _he's got bear hands_ \-- 

"Alright. I'll chuck you in storage and will give you odd jobs - don't fuck anything up." Jacob leaned back and nodded behind her, she turned around and spotted a man in a Deputy uniform who walked forward ( _was he in the room the entire time?_ ). She caught his name badge - S. Pratt - tucking the information into her memory bank and observed him, his face black and blue, his emancipated form under his uniform.

"Come with me. Please." She stood, trying to ignore the shiver that continued to run up her spine, knowing Jacob was watching her. 

"One more thing. Get out of the dress - be practical." 

That was the best news she had heard all day.

* * *

Charlotte at least had Holly and other women at Seed Ranch, but here, she was alone and although she was a quiet girl by nature, she was lonely _as fuck_. It had been a few days since she had been brought to St Francis, and the silence was taking a bit of a toll on her. Sure, it was never _completely silent_ here, but the lack of human interaction was making her a bit crazy. The Deputy - Pratt - she had seen never spoke to her, never left Jacob's side, and she never really saw much of Jacob while she was in Storage, going through the belongings of recruits or taking stock of the ammo supplies, seeing what was useful.

It seems that things went through St Francis from all parts of Hope County in the case in which there were dangerous packages or goods, she surmises. She was lucky in the regard that she hadn't found a bomb or anything toxic, or she would have been fucked. Brushing off her hands on her jeans, she dragged another box to the center of the room and started digging through components that may be useful for the Cult. Old CD players, useful for copper wiring, old clothes could be useful for rags, anything she could disassemble, she had to find a use for.

Charlotte hadn't left the building yet, much less the room she was staying in, the corridor from Storage to her room and the Storage room herself, bar from bathroom breaks. Her arms ached from lugging the boxes around. _At least I'll get some muscles out of this_. 

"Girl." The voice made her drop a CD player on her foot as she spun around, a Chosen standing at the door. She hadn't even heard the bastard.

"Come feed the pets. We got shit to do." He turned before she could question it - Charlotte was getting pretty annoyed with that - as she stumbled behind him. He lead her through a series of corridors once again, she dreaded how she's going to have to figure out how to get back to her sanctuary where she had spent the last few days. They exited the building, the light of the day almost blinding her. Shielding her eyes with her palm, she took a deep breath of air before her eyes were drawn to the cages. Wolves, Bears, Dogs -- _people_ \- were in cages. The rust of the bars was a heavy scent in the air, as well as decay, and something else ghastly that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Meat is in the bucket." Without a word, the Chosen turned on his heel and stalked away, before Charlotte could ask why. The bucket he mentioned sat next to the doorway, flies lingering on the rim. The meat was raw, and Charlotte wasn't even sure what type it was. She picked it up with a huff and stalked forward to the first cage - a dog. It seemed rabid, bearing its fangs at her as she stalked forward. Grimacing, she picked up a piece of meat from its corner, almost gagging at the smell, and tossing it through the bars onto the floor of the cage. The dog tore into the meat as if it's life depended on it, giving Charlotte a chance to turn to the next cage, a mournful feeling sitting in her stomach. She loved animals, they didn't belong in cages. Her gaze on the next cage landed on a man in another Deputy uniform, slumped forward, and the mournful feeling at the pit of her stomach grew.

People didn't belong in cages either.

She noticed a metal plate in front of the cage, and she slapped another piece of meat down on it, sliding it through an opening into the cage. The Deputy - S. Rook, as per his name tag - didn't react, didn't move.

"...Hello? Sir?" She prodded, putting the bucket down and stepping forward to the metal railings. With a sigh, his slumped form straightened, and he looked up with her with a blank expression, expecting for her to speak. She crossed her arms around her waist and stepped back from the railing.

"Sorry, was just checking if you were--"

"Dead?" His voice was gravelly from disuse. She nodded, and suddenly his face broke into a grin, his teeth sharp, the smile never quite reaching his eyes. "You'd like that, wouldn't ya?" 

Charlotte shook her head and his smile dropped slightly. Leaning forward on his knees, he ran a hand through his hair as he got up from his spot, stalking towards her in front of the cage.

"You're not a Peggie." He deduced, wrapping his fingers around the railings. As he was closer, Charlotte observed his face - the freckles that dotted across his face, the cuts and bruises. What had happened to him?

"Not voluntarily, no." His smile dissipated as he stared forward, his brown eyes swallowing her whole within their warm depths.

"Well darl, what's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?" He nodded towards St Francis, eye cocked in curiosity.

"Wrong place, wrong time." She responded and he nodded once again, turning away from the bars with his arms on his hips, head bent to the ground. Feeling as if she was being watched, she picked up the bucket, intention to continue her duties clear in her posture before he spun around once again, fingers gripping the railings, eyes afire.

"Are you content with doing this shit? Seeing this shit?" Charlotte opened her mouth to talk, but didn't know what to say. His Deputy badge glinted under the sun, the blood under his fingernails looked fresh, why was she okay with this. Apathy, Sloth.

"I don't know what to do--"

"Help me. Help us." She paused, looking around to see if Jacob was behind her, or a Chosen, ready to kill them both on sight at the mere mention of escape before turning to him. The way his eyes had zeroed in on her took her breath away, and a rush of adrenaline curdled in her gut.

"...I'm useless, I don't know how I can help without--" _Being killed.  
  
_ "If you spend your life doing nothing, then what is the point of it all? Are you even living if you're not trying to change the world? Think about it. Are you happy spending your life knowing you could have helped save a person or many _fucking_ people? If you are, you're as bad as the people who did this." He wrenched his shirt away from his chest and Charlotte spotted John's etching of Wrath across his sternum. Her arm dropped to her own tattoo across her forearm, tracing it with her fingers absentmindedly as she stared forward into Rook's eyes. His eyes dropped towards her arm as he observed her own tattoo and softened, looking up to her and pressing himself closer to the bars.

"Everyone is capable of change, kid - even you." His gaze then drifted over her shoulder and the fire dimmed. Stepping back from the bars, he returned to his seated position, looking away from her.

"See you've met our VIP resident." Charlotte gripped the bucket handle as Jacob's voice crooned behind her. She turned, flinching at the ice of his gaze. He stared her down, using his build to loom over her. He said nothing as he stared down at her, as if expecting an explanation. 

"...He wanted more meat, sir." She gestured to the bucket by lifting it up and he raised an eyebrow, as if knowing she was full of shit. Not feeling very comfortable under his gaze, she pointed towards the next cage, sheepishly. "I better...get going..." 

"Good idea." She scurried to the next cage, eyes only staring forward. Rook's words continued to resonate through her like a hurricane, the passion she got from him was overwhelming to the point that she felt almost dizzy. As she walked past cages with dead animals, bludgeoned humans, dead humans, she felt his words sit on her shoulder, as if she was carrying the world on it. 

_I should help him. Them._

How, Charlotte? You're only a girl.

_Everyone is capable of change, kid - even you._

Charlotte sat down in her cot, palms facing upwards as she stared down at them, reading her palms as if they would tell her what to do. Her mind churned with indecision, replaying the words over and over in her head. _Everyone is capable of change, kid - even you. Everyone is capable of change, kid - even you. Everyone is capable of change, kid - even you--_

"I am capable of change." She smiled down at her palms, a flame within her bursting in her chest. She laid back onto the cot, clenching her fists over her heart. If she was going to die here, if she was ever going to be with her Grandmother in Heaven again, she needed to redeem her Sloth, she needed to do something. 

"I will help you." Charlotte whispered to the ceiling, smile never leaving her face.


	3. Boom

The good thing about Charlotte was that she was invisible - she never made a peep unless spoken to and could pass through rooms like a ghost. Chosen never paid much attention to her, much less from Jacob, so she suspected she was in the best position to help the Deputy. She was unsure if he was suspicious of her from her encounter with the Deputy a few days prior, but she was banking on the hope that with her staying within storage, that his suspicion had dissipated and he had to have focused on other things. While she worked through the day, Charlotte continued business as usual, but at night, her mind churned with ideas, albeit stupid ones, but ideas none-the-less. 

She had rediscovered passion in the middle of Hope County, the passion she had been searching for originally on her travels as a backpacker. Sure, she had rediscovered it while being in the ultimate servitude of a Cult, but it was what she was looking for none-the-less. During the night, Charlotte began to walk the corridors, mapping out the area on a piece of paper and pencil she had taken from one of the storage containers. When asked what she was doing, she didn't necessarily lie, choosing to give half-truths as opposed to the full lie.

"I get lost so much, y'know - woman and sense of direction and what not?" She cringed inwardly at the deadpanned gaze she received from the Chosen passing her at two in the morning, _perhaps the self-deprecation was a bit much_. He pushed past her and continued forward, ignoring her once again and Charlotte puffed a relieved breath, continuing her work and sketching. She felt her conscious reach out to her, prodding her to go to sleep, while the feeling within her gut prodded her back, _people are rotting in cages, Charlotte._

A creak of a door brought her out sketching mode as another Chosen exited a room to the left of where she was, stepping around her like a mere blip on his radar, and Charlotte used this opportunity to peer inside. It was a camera room. The cage camera room. Checking to the left and right of her, ensuring she was alone, she walked forward for a better look. Her eyes scanned the equipment, the screens, and a switch to the far right of the door way. She squinted at the yellow tape to the bottom of the switch - _Manual Override._ _Bingo._

Stepping back from the room, she checked to see if she was in the clear once again, before writing on her piece of paper in haste. She had the small basis of an idea, but it was an idea none-the-less. Quickly jogging back to her room through the maze of corridors, she plotted. _Manual override, okay, so would that mean like, open the cages manual override or turn off the cameras override? I would need to figure that out if I'm going to help anyone here._ _The button didn't appear to be linked to the cameras at all, and when I looked at the cages that day, they didn't appear to have like, a key or lock system, so potentially that could be what the override is--_

Colliding with a wall, she landed on her ass with an oof. Wincing, she looked up at the wall only to see Jacob Seed, arms crossed once again, staring back down at her. Red hair luminescent under the lighting, posture solid like he was made out of steel. She stared back up with him, her mind drawing blank. 

"What are you doing?" She stood up, noting that he made no effort to help her and rubbed her backside. Without repeating the question, he stepped forward and ripped the paper from her hand and peered down at it. Mentally preparing her script, she recited.

"I get lost so much, y'know - woman and sense of --"

"Direction and what not?" He finished her sentence with a clipped tone, looking up from the paper with an eyebrow raised. She blinked and sheepishly smiled, nodding. He lifted his head up and stood straight, tucking her map into his pocket and crossing his arms once again. 

"You've been running around here for the last few nights. Been watching you on the cameras. Going to tell me what you're actually doing?" She stood up straighter, mentally kicking herself in the ass for the mistake. _How did I not fucking think of that?  
  
_"I genuinely have no sense of direction, sir --" He raised his hand, a gesture to remain silent before stalking past her, his shoulder bumping into hers.

"Save it. Get to your room. If I catch you doing this shit again, you're in for it." He called down the corridor and she let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. _Fuck, now I gotta start again._

* * *

She started mapping the route out during the day, making little circles on her paper for where the _fucking cameras_ were before she was beckoned by a Chosen to go feed the pets again. Stepping outside, she felt the patter of rain on her skin, relishing in the smell of it on concrete before turning to the bucket that had been left for her by the Chosen. Her gaze immediately sought out the Deputy who lay motionless against the cage and she approached him, picking up a piece of meat and placing it on the metal plate like she had done days earlier. He didn't move, so Charlotte cleared her throat, and gripped the bucket with both of her hands in front of her. Rook looked up, gaze glazed over and stared at her. 

"Hello, Rook." He didn't answer, only stared. Charlotte noted the fresh bruises along his arms and across his face with a frown and stepped forward. 

"I just wanted to tell you to be patient, if you can." He leaned forward as if he didn't hear her right, confusion across his face. Taking a breath, she rolled her eyes - _I fucking suck at being cryptic._

"Um. So. Yeah." She stalked away, feeling as though Rook's eyes followed her to the next cage as she continued feeding the animals. This time she wasn't just feeding them however, she was inspecting the cages, the lock systems and noting any camera that stood out to her. _Four cameras, three bears, five people, eight wolves, six dogs._ _I am going to save three bears, five people, eight wolves and six dogs._

Like a mantra, she repeated it in her head, the voice in her brain slowly morphing into the voice of her Grandmother, long since passed from the world, and she took comfort in the voice, even only temporarily. The soothing tones repeated itself over and over, giving her strength as she continued to plot. Grandma Evie always said she had the passion, she just needed to find it. Towards the end of the day, Charlotte found herself back within the Storage unit, going through her duties that felt automated at this point. She knew she wasn't being monitored by any camera within that room, so she took her time shifting through the junk in front of her. 

Boxes upon boxes of books sat in front of her and she sighed, wondering if they will be burned or what their fate was as she began to sort them by alphabetical order within the boxes. That is when she spotted it, it's black cover with bold white and red writing.

Pulling it from its box, she flipped the book open, feeling the small flame within her gut that had been lingering there become a bonfire. Somehow, she had been gifted something greater than anything she had ever received. This was fucking Christmas level shit, this was winning the lottery shit - _The fucking Anarchist Cookbook itself._ The yellowed pages and water damage did not affect it's reading ability in the slightest, and Charlotte sat down on the floor, cross legged as she skimmed the pages of the book. _Hand to hand combat, booby traps, explosives--_

Like a light that had clicked on in her brain, Charlotte stared at the word. Explosives. _Explosives._

_Camera room, manual override, explosives._

With a grin, she stood up, book in hand and looked at the method listed within the book. All of the gear she could find within the storage unit, she knew where it was, or how to get it after days of doing nothing but disassembling. She slipped the book down the front of her pants. _Time to make a fucking bomb_.

* * *

Although, like cooking, she knew it would take a few goes until she got it right, but Charlotte didn't necessarily have the time or the resources to do that, so she studied the book with a newfound reverence. She wasn't even sure that she would get it to work, but she was banking on that if she was incredibly careful and precise, she could at least get a distraction or two out of it. Throughout the night, she worked with the good she had picked out from storage, wincing at the scratches she got from the copper wiring on her boob from concealing it within her bra on her way back to her room. Jacob and the Chosen had little to no faith in her, so she was able to go to and from her room, picking up parts as she pleased - hell, she even managed to procure a fucking soldering iron, and that saved her a lot of time in terms of wiring and the like. 

Sitting cross legged on the bed, she stared forward at her creation, the detonator sitting in front of her two, a simple switch that she had removed from an old keyboard. She grinned, the feeling of adrenaline pulsing through her as she sat up straight, and tied her blonde hair up into a bun atop her crown. She stood, rolling her shoulders back, rewarded with a click or two and stretched, her gaze falling on the dress she wore on her first day, folded atop a nearby chair. 

_This is a death wish, Charlotte. What are you trying to achieve here?_ The dress seemed to murmur to her. 

"I'm going to die anyway." She spat towards it, gripping the dress within her fingers before pausing. "Oh my God, I am going insane. I am talking to a dress, and I'm going insane." She ran her fingers along the fabric, the faded blue staring back at her, almost pleading at her to return to her servitude. Charlotte shook her head, frowning, before sitting on the chair, staring forward at the dress. 

_Servitude. Play the servant._

A whistle pierced through the halls, as it did every morning to indicate it was the start of the day, and Charlotte dropped the dress by her feet. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she walked towards the device on her bed. The majority of the Chosen, including Jacob, went on drills in the morning, which meant that it was showtime for Charlotte.

Tying her boots extra tight, she began to wrap the bomb within newspaper, stuffing it into a box, detonator pressed against her pocket like it was burning a hole. Tucking the cook book into the front of her jeans, she stacked the aptly named bomb box onto of another and left her room, careful, and stalked the memorised path towards the Storage room. The thundering of feet throughout the corridors resonated, and she could hear a whistle go off once again as she sat the boxes down carefully. The plan was simple, wait for the majority of the army to go for their drills with Jacob, go to the camera room, put bomb in camera room (somehow), press override button, and run like a bat out of hell. 

It was entirely half-baked, yes, but it was her only option right now. Charlotte waited fifteen minutes before she picked up the box, adrenaline still coursing through her like tar, and stalked towards the camera room, her time stalking the corridor proving useful as she memorised every corner she could. Stopping in front of the door, she stared up at the camera that blinked from within the corner of the hall, feeling as though Jacob - who in theory shouldn't be here - was watching her, but the need to help others outweighed herself at this point, so without another glance, she knocked on the door of the camera room. 

A Chosen stepped forward as the door opened, rifle slung over his shoulder. 

"Jacob said he wanted to see you urgently, something with regards to a rank change?" _Fuck I hope I got the fucking army lingo right._ He stared back, arms crossed before nodding, stalking past her, and around the corner, the rifle clinking as he walked. Before the door could close shut, she stuck her foot within the door, quickly jumping in and setting the box down underneath the desk in front of the cameras, pulling the detonator from within her jeans out, checking the wires to ensure they were all good to go. _Thank you pops for the quick electronics run down when I was ten._

With a deep breath, she stalked towards the override button and pressed it, eyes glued to the screens and feeling a rush of joy as the doors all popped open simultaneously. What she wasn't exactly counting on was the huge bell start to ring throughout the compound because of it. _Shit. I just alerted the whole fucking brigade._ Feeling her fight or flight response kick in, she ran from the room, running towards the cages, detonator still clutched in hand. Within the chaos, Chosen had begun to appear, sprinting to the room and the courtyard with haste. 

Seeing the door to freedom, she bolted outside, running to Rook's cage. He remained slumped over, perhaps not aware of the alarm nor his cage being opened, and she gripped his face. 

"Wake up sleepy, I told you to be patient but not that patient." He slowly opened his eyes and stared at her as she manouvered his arm over her shoulders, his weight being hard to carry. 

"Freeze, sinner!" She did so, feeling Rook's head roll onto her shoulder as he stood up straighter, still disorientated. The Chosen in front of them stood, arm raised with trained proficiency, pistol pointed at her head. She palmed the detonator in her hand, and flicked the switch, waiting for the crescendo of fireworks that her mind had imagined. 

She flicked it again, the Chosen staring at her hand as she tapped it against her thigh before pulling back the safety on his gun. Charlotte closed her eyes as she waited for the gun to go off, constantly flicking the detonator to and fro in hopes maybe something will trigger the bomb she spent _all night fucking making_ , before a growl and a scream caught her attention. Opening her eyes, she saw a wolf dig its teeth into the Chosen, ripping the man apart with ease. 

"You feedin' em, so they like you." Rook's voice was so quiet, almost a whisper while the grounds were alight with screams from the man, the override siren blaring, and the commotion of the lack of Chosen who remained at base. With a huff, Charlotte carried Rook as much as she could towards the front gate, following the outskirts of the wall as close as possible in order to not draw too much attention. She knew she didn't have much time left, as they have probably notified the drill squad -- and Jacob -- of the predicament. Still clutching the detonator, she huffed, throwing it behind her.

"Stupid fucking thing." As soon as it hit the ground, a soft boom shook the compound, and from near the front entrance, Rook and Charlotte turned, watching smoke begin to pillar out of the glass windows it had somehow, with impact, blown out. Chosen scrambled from the courtyard back into the building, leaving them the open ground out of the compound, and into the plush forest that surrounded it.


	4. Projection

They had been walking for hours through the forest before Rook and Charlotte gave in to a small break. They spent the time mostly in silence, more for Rook's sake as he seemed to be going through the motions a fair bit, and Charlotte didn't necessarily know what to think. As they had trudged through the trees, blisters forming and bursting on her feet, the adrenaline Charlotte had felt only hours prior began to wear off. As soon as her high had hit, she had started to have withdrawals - paranoia had settled within her bones. Or realism, she hadn't really picked which one as of yet.

As she reflected on her last twenty-four hours, something didn't add up, it didn't _feel right_. 

She was many things - lazy, a smart-ass, a great cook, but a solider, she was definitely not. Everything she had attempted whilst she had hashed up her half-baked plan had worked, and that's what she didn't feel right about. With a sigh, she sat down on a nearby boulder while Rook stretched, checking his bruises with a wince. 

"Something on your mind?" She looked up at him as he limped over, planting himself next to her on the rock, stretching himself back to lie down and stare at the sky. She joined him, arms extended behind her head - they probably would have looked like a pair of starfish in a rock pool. 

"It doesn't feel right." She albeit whispered, feeling exhaustion seep into every joint of her body. From her periphery, she saw Rook turn his head, analyzing her before he looked back up at the sky.

"Doing the right thing...doesn't feel right?" She sat up, almost giving herself whiplash.

"No! No, it was just...way too easy." Looking down at Rook, he nodded to her, a distant look appearing within his features. 

"It was." Charlotte sat forward and tucked her head between her knees, taking deep breaths.

"He let us walk out of here, didn't he?" She whispered, not looking up at Rook for his response. He didn't answer, but that was all the information she needed. Looking down between her feet, she counted the leaves that lay by her boots, she drank in the greenery into her memory. _Today will most likely be my last day alive._

"He's going to come for us, isn't he?" Charlotte could hear Rook sit up and felt him place an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him for an awkward one-arm hug. It was awkward, but comforting none-the-less.

"Yes. He is." With a pat on her bun, he stood up and Charlotte's thoughts began to whirl between her knees. _All of this would have been for nothing if he gets caught now._ With a sigh, she stood up and readjusted her hair on top of her head and stared at Rook's back as he regarded the tree line. He was obviously important to Jacob, just from the 'special' treatment he had received whilst in his care, and he was injured, and Charlotte did not want to risk him getting hurt more. Comparing him to herself, she knew he would be in a better position to do more good than she could, and resignation filled her core. 

"I think I'm going to wait here." She whispered, the words leaving her mouth before she could reconsider. Rook turned slowly and regarded her, hands on his hips. He was worn out, brown eyes looked like sunken pools, the bruises along his jawline had faded to a mirage of different colours, and those were the injuries she could see. He limped forward, mouth open to perhaps ask her to reconsider before she held up her own hand to stop him.

"You're more capable than me, man. You just gotta promise me eventually, you need to come get me so I can go home." She gave him a half-smile, one that she intended to be reassuring, but perhaps did the opposite for Rook. He was silent as he stared at her, perhaps wondering where this line of thought had come from. 

"He's going to be coming for us, and you'd have a much easier chance on your own without me dragging you down." 

"You're not injured, I am the one dragging us down--" 

"Trust me, Rook. Better me than you." He paused before walking forward, placing his hand on her shoulder once again. _Man the dude was handsy._

"If you pull that stunt again, get Stace out, but I promise, I'll find you and get you out before you need to do that, Cookie." She blinked at the nickname.

"Cookie?" He grinned and pointed to her stomach, where her shirt had ridden up and exposed her cook book.

"Anarchist Cookbook, and you're a sweetie, so, Cookie." She felt blood rush to her face, her inability to take a compliment unable to stop the sarcasm seeping out of her.

"Yeah, yeah - get out of here before I blow you up."

"You'd love to blow me, wouldn't ya?" He winked before he began to stumble for the tree line, and Charlotte had the urge to throw the book at his head.

* * *

She remained on the boulder for quite some time after Rook left, to the point where she aptly named it - her boulder. Charlotte was ultimately bored whilst she waited for Jacob to find her, having read the book a multitude of times, inspected her blistered feet, counted the callouses on her hands, and even attempting meditation. She wasn't aware of the length of time that had passed during her day, and could only really try to guess by the position that the sun loomed over her. 

Within the clearing, she took off her boots and spread herself out on the ground, relishing in the feel of grass under her and began to cloud gaze. She hadn't had the time to do this since she was a kid, the nostalgia crept into her like an apparition. She closed her eyes and pictured her Grandmother's house, laying under the large oak in the front yard, the smell of fresh pecan pie wafting through the air, her little brother playing his Nintendo nearby, and her Grandmother humming a soft tune whilst she hung out her washing to dry in the summer air. Her parents weren't around much due to work, but when they were, they always occupied her time with things to do.

Her favourite memory however was just lying under the tree and watching the sky. 

Curling her fingers in the grass next to her, and took a deep breath of air. A shuffle to her left brought her out of her musings and she cranked open one eye, regarding the shrubs where the sound had originated from. Sitting up right, she stared in its direction, waiting for a rabbit to appear, or some form of wildlife until she stared further into the bush from her position. A black glint pushed through, elongating forward, and she only realised what it was until a sharp pinch hit her in the throat.

"What the--fuck?" She clutched her throat, feeling a feathered bolt sticking out of it, the metal cold against the flush of her neck. A man dressed in black stood upright from the shrubs, emerging like a demon out of hell. Charlotte's vision began to sparkle and churn, the pain of reality floating away and the world around her pulsated with colour and life.

"Target acquired - bringing home the goods." 

Everything went black as she watched with wonder, the barrel of a gun zoom towards her head.

* * *

When she woke up, her wrists were bound behind her and her legs were bound to the chair she had been placed on. Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and she had a hard time opening her eyes. When she eventually did succeed, she regarded the pitch black of the room - _no windows, metal door, a...projector? this looks like St Francis._ She shook her head, hair from her bun which had fallen in front of her eyes smacking her in the face. She felt like a stuffed bear, full of cotton, and her eyes fucking hurt.

The door opened, and Jacob walked in, every thump of his boots echoed as he stalked towards her - a Chosen shut the door behind him quickly. Charlotte peered up at Jacob, brows furrowed as he slowly began to circle her. He tutted, dragging a nearby chair in front of her and sitting on it backwards, legs splayed apart on each side, resting his head in his palm.

"Well, welcome home, princess. Have fun escaping the castle?" He crooned, his blue eyes boring into her like spikes. She didn't respond, choosing to keep quiet as he observed her. 

"Who woulda thought that the _kitten got claws?_ " He looked like he was about to smile, the corner of his mouth quirking only slightly. Charlotte puffed her cheeks, feeling a bit indignant over his condescension.

"...Why did you let me walk out of here?" She whispered, staring off to the side. 

"Wanted to see what you were made of." Charlotte looked back at him, maintaining her eye contact as much as she could.

"Do you have him?" He didn't respond, and that was enough for Charlotte to smirk. _Rook got away. He fucking did it._

Eventually, after their staring match must have got a little boring, Jacob stood up from the chair and straightened himself up, walking forward slowly to Charlotte as she watched him approach. With a soft hand - much softer than what she probably deserved - he clutched her jaw, turning her head from one side to the other, inspecting her like an animal at a country fair. He tutted at her once again, a thumb stroking under her lower lip as he loomed over her. 

"You want to be a solider so bad, don't you girlie?" His expression was indescribable as he continued to stroke her face, almost as if she were a lover. Charlotte remained rigid under his touch, her bones felt like metal and she sat in her bounds with anticipation, waiting for him to snap her neck. Bending at the waist slightly, he moved closer, his face only inches from hers - the soft touch of his breath touching her face like butterfly wings. His eyes, electric, never once left hers as his hands moved from her face to her neck.

"Don't worry darlin', I'll give you what you want." A feeling of warmth, somehow, seeped into her core and Charlotte felt blood rush once again to her cheeks like an erupting volcano. This was incredibly involuntary and only made her more tense. Jacob's hand continued to rub the back of her neck as his other brushed down the side of her arm, almost in a languid motion, and then she heard a click. A wide smile, full of teeth broke out on Jacob's face as he lifted a remote in front of her eyes, whilst the projector nearby whirred to life. 

"Time to see how you deal with the trials, cupcake." 


	5. Want

The first thing she noticed when she woke up was the familiarity of the cot she currently resided in, the spring that would poke her unforgivingly in her right side, the obnoxious creak she would hear at the mere movement of her shifting, the musk -- God, that stupid musk that would coat the inside of her nostrils like paint. Then, she noticed the pain, penetrating her skull in waves. Without opening her eyes, she grabbed her head, groaning as she shifted onto her side. Her hands smelt strongly of iron, like the rust on the cages outside of St Francis. 

Craning one eye open took effort as she looked at her palms, then bolting upright in her bed - her hands were _bloodied._

Frantically, she patted herself down, looking for any signs of trauma on her body, but she could feel nothing - only pins and needles in her legs, the static ran under her skin as she curled her toes. _Yup, still here in one piece._

"It takes awhile, but you get used to it." She almost missed the soft voice from the doorway as she slowly turned to view the other occupant of the room. A Chosen, shorter than others she had seen before, stood at the entrance, hand poised above their holster.

"What...happened to me?" She muttered, voice scratchy from disuse. The Chosen relaxed, arm resting at their side before stepping into the hallway connecting to her room - which now, she noted did not have a door - looking side to side before returning back to their seemingly designated spot.

"You ran a trial, barely made it. Never held a gun before, have ya?" Charlotte could hear the laugh from the Chosen, although heavily muffled by the balaclava. She shook her head, choosing to focus back on her bloodied hands. _Did...I hurt someone?_

From the corner of her eye, the Chosen stepped forward, adjusting their rifle strap before sitting on a nearby chair, Charlotte noted that her dress had been thrown to the floor nearby, like the rags that they were. The Chosen tucked their leg over the other in a graceful movement, linking their gloved fingers together on their knee. Charlotte turned herself until her legs dangled over the edge and jumped at the sudden clunk of chains, finally noticing the buckle attached to her ankle. She's chained to a bed - _fucking great_. She shook her head before hearing a giggle.

"Like I said, ya get used to it." Charlotte stared back at the Chosen who had sat down in slight disbelief, she wasn't used to them talking, much less to _her_.

As if on cue, the Chosen gave her a wave, twinkling their fingers as they did it.

"The name is Pinky!" Charlotte did nothing to stop her eyebrow from raising as it did. _The fuck kind of name is that?_

"Why are you telling me your name?"

"You're going to be one of us now, would be nice to have another girl on the squad!" Oh. She was a woman.

"Pinky..." Charlotte rolled it on her tongue - easy enough to remember. "How'd you get that name?" Said woman sighed before raising her right hand, peeling off her glove with the other, revealing a fair skinned hand riddled with scars, coincidentally missing a pinky. Ouch.

"I lost my finger in the beginning, for insubordination! It was _totally_ my fault, I get really chatty sometimes and never really know when to shut up, it's kind of a super bad habit that I have been trying to crack, but I am a still super good at shooting! I guess that's why they put me with you! I'm really good at shooting, but all that running around and being quiet in the forest? Not my style. I'm better at hunkering down here and looking after the big cheese himself, but y'know, far from him because I think I maybe annoy him, but like I said, I'm super good at shooting!" Charlotte couldn't do anything except listen to the Chosen talk, and talk, and talk - she _did not shut the fuck up_. 

"Anyway, I was looking after the lower bunker and then I got called up to see Jacob, and my he is _handsome_ and he said that he had a special job for me and he said I had to look after you! Said you were special, and I asked him if he was sure because _I talk a lot_ and he said that I was more than capable! So here I am!" _He must have done this on purpose._

Pinky stood up abruptly and stretched, letting out a relieved sigh as her joints popped before putting her hands on her hips.

"Better go tell the boss the good news!" 

"What good news?"

"That you didn't die!" With a wave, she waltzed out the door, leaving Charlotte alone in the room to ponder that sentence. An ominous feeling crept into her - how close had she come to death once again. Why didn't they let her die if she was that bad during the trial? Never had she held a gun, had she hurt anyone? The questioned began to circle her brain like water down a storm drain, felt rigid as she examined her nails, and began to scratch desperately at her hands, frantically trying to rub away the dirt, the blood, from her body. 

She couldn't remember what had happened, the time she spent after Jacob had switched on the projector was nothing but a black hole within her subconscious. Spotting a bowl and a bottle of water on a nearby metal table, she took an experimental push off of the bed, stamping slightly to dampen the pins and needles within her legs. The chain dragged behind her as she walked towards the bowl, it scraped heavy against the floor, if anyone was wondering if she was awake, they'd know by now.

Reaching the table, she cracked open the water bottle and took a swig or two, before dousing her hands in it, desperately scrubbing her hands and face as if she were covered in acid. Not seeing a clean towel or anything anywhere, she lifted up her shirt and desperately blotted her face - they weren't her clothes, she didn't care if she ruined them. Charlotte used the time to then examine her room - noting the new camera in the far corner that blinked a red light every few minutes, noting the drawers with no drawers still sitting in the far right of the room, noting her book that sat next to her bed on the worn down end table--

Her book - the book, the book that taught her how to make the y'know, _bomb_. Surely, there had to be an ulterior motive as to why he left the book there. Why would you pour gasoline onto a fire? _Why would he let you execute a reckless plan in order for him to come get you?_ The whole thing made no sense. She walked towards the book, picking it up and fanning through the pages, her mind awash with thoughts, theories, _with Jacob_. 

Familiar steps began to echo through the hall, causing Charlotte to stumble back towards the bed, chain clanging against the metal frame as she climbed into it. Her legs dangled off the edge as she waited for him to appear at the doorway, fingers curled around the edge of the cot, stroking the fabric to and fro in order to calm her nerves, the book lay like a child on her lap. _If I didn't die during the trials, maybe it's because he wants to kill me now._

Jacob turned into her vision, arms crossed against his broad chest and leaned against the door frame before letting out a low whistle.

"Well lookie who decided to wake up." Charlotte remained rooted to her spot on her bed, staring forward at him intently. Taking her silence with grace, he stared towards her lap, looking at the book before his gaze drifted back towards her face. 

"You did alright, if you were wondering." He must have meant the trials, the moment in time that Charlotte oh-so-desperately wanted to remember. 

"What did I do?" The words tumbled out of her lips before she had the chance to think.

"You did a trial, barely. Never held a gun before have you, doll?" She was getting pretty sick of the assumption and she had only been asked that twice since she woke up, a deadpanned expression settling on her face before she had the chance to hide it.

"Do I look like a gun wielding maniac to you?" He gave a half shrug before gesturing to the book on her lap.

"Didn't look like a bomb making one, yet here we are." He did have a point, she would have to begrudgingly admit. She knew what he saw - a 5'2, blonde haired, blue-eyed woman-child who was originally as meek as a baby goat.

"Why did you leave me this book? Why not burn it?" She asked, slowly wrenching her fingers from the edge of the bed and curling them around the worn cover, stroking at the vinyl coating. He regarded her for a moment before stepping away from the door frame, walking towards her in calculated, slow steps.

"That book is old, it's inaccurate, outdated. I have my eye on you as well and also..." He softly clasped her jaw between his fingers, like he did in the projection room, and ran this thumb back under the plump of her lower lip, "I don't have to explain a single goddamn thing to you, darlin'." The southern drawl crooned into her core in a way that it _really shouldn't have_. _Fuck, is this what Stockholm syndrome is?_

From the closeness, Charlotte took the time to drink in Jacob, which she could now see under the blinding florescent lights within her room. She observed the scars that pocketed and peppered his skin, the crystalline tone of his eyes, his rust coloured hair.

"It makes no sense, I blew up one of your rooms with it--" He yanked her forward by her chin, so he was only a mere inches away from her face.

"And what a great job you did with that, doll." Jacob murmured, eyes boring into hers. Unable to look away from him, she chose to scoot back towards the wall that her cot sat next to, giving her space to breathe, to be free of him and his overall being. He was an intense man, may not say much with words but was overbearing to her to the point that she wanted to run. The predatory energy that came off this man was _insane_. 

Jacob let her scoot back, standing up straight as he regarded her in the center of the room, indifference once again settling on his face, his lip quirked downwards slightly being the only indication that he was perhaps annoyed.

"You have another trial coming up, you need to work on guns because quite frankly, you suck." Candid as ever, she brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, cocooning herself away from him.

"Pinky will be looking after you at the range, and if I catch one more little freedom fighter attempt, you're in for a ride, darlin'." He turned away from Charlotte and began to walk to the door, fraying her nerves with each heavy step. She lifted her head up, feeling the need to somehow get the last word in.

"Why her?" Jacob stopped, looking over his shoulder at her, smirking slightly. 

"Maybe a bit of happy estrogen will settle that rebellious streak down a bit, doll. You played the weak woman card once before, so lets see you try with her." 

_Fucking prick._

* * *

Charlotte's hands hurt, and Pinky told her that because of her lack of grip strength, it would hurt for sometime. Pinky always had an answer for everything, always wanted to know everything, and more importantly, would not shut the fuck up. She felt lonely at first when she came to St Francis, and it had gotten to the point that she would rather pierce her own ear drums with a hot needle then to continue to half-heartedly listen to Pinky's insistent babbling.

From what she learned, Pinky was very young, very impressionable, and was raised as a hunter in Hope County with her father. She was an avid sharpshooter, which she seemed to boast more than anyone else, and none of the other Chosen were particularly friendly with her. As she restrained Charlotte's foot to her chain within a shooting range hidden below the building, she spoke more and more about how she learned of the Cult, of how she joined to make friends, to find a family. 

Pinky wasn't even from Hope County, having been recruited via an online forum she spotted whilst browsing the internet one day, but she said it felt more like home now than it had ever been. She was showing Charlotte how to pull apart a gun and put it back together, how to clean it before she stopped, turning to Charlotte with a question:

"Why did you want to be a Chosen all of a sudden anyway?" Charlotte looked at her indignantly.

"...I didn't. Why did _you_ want to be a Chosen?" _Why hasn't Jacob killed you yet?_

"I knew I was strong and I flew through the trials, and I wanted to contribute! Why are you _here_ if you don't want to be a Chosen? Like, weird? I wouldn't have picked you as someone for Jacob to take under his wing." Pinky huffed as she cleaned the revolver in front of her, wiping it down with care. 

"I don't know what goes through his head." Charlotte murmured, voice soft. Pinky hummed before she began to put the gun back together, handling the chamber with more grace than Charlotte would have given her credit for.

"We don't always end up where we think we are, but it's up to us to find happiness - y'know?" Charlotte looked up and took in the green of Pinky's eyes, the softness - she was being sincere. 

"How can you be happy, working for murderers? Working with murderers? Being a murderer?" The questions tumbled out of Charlotte's mouth before she could think, a habit that she wishes she did not indulge herself with. Pinky blinked, placing the now-complete gun down on the table and adjusting her balaclava around her nose.

"What I do, what we do, what _they_ _do_ , it's for a purpose. Besides, get off your high horse love, you're one of them." Charlotte stared at Pinky, a void growing in the pit of her stomach.

"...what?" 

"You passed your trial, you killed someone, so don't act like you're above us. The blood is on your hands too. Look man, I'm just trying to help..." She continued to talk, but Charlotte couldn't listen, wouldn't listen. Her thoughts spinning with a multitude of questions, and suddenly her hands that were clean felt once again, coated in thick blood. She could imagine it drooping to the floor by her feet, congealing between her toes. She felt unclean. She had killed someone? _Who? Why? How?_

"Anyway's, I need to get back to the lower levels, I think we're done for the day." Pinky stood back and began to readjust Charlotte's restraint, clipping her away from the table and leading her back to her room. Charlotte followed in a daze, still registering the fact that she killed a person, or persons, how could she even do that? Was it a lucky clip of a gun? Did she _stab_ someone? _How was I capable of doing this?_

She began to drag herself back to reality, feeling the panic within her chest begin to become overwhelming. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't concentrate, she just needed to calm herself the _fuck down._ Taking a deep breath through her mouth, she closed her eyes as she was being led, and listened to the noises around her - the chain dragged along the ground, the scrape of it obnoxious as it resounded through the concrete corridors, a soft hum from Pinky of a tune she couldn't recognise, doors closing and opening, John Seed's laugh--

John Seed. Her eyes shot open, looking for him.

"Is John here?" Pinky turned around and nodded, giving her a thumbs up. 

"Just arrived this morning!" Charlotte stopped moving, standing still in the middle of the corridor. _Maybe he can take me back. I don't want to be a Chosen, I don't want to kill anybody._

"Can I see him?" 

"Hah! No! Why would he want to see you? Come on, lets get you back." Pinky pulled at her chain, dragging her forward, Charlotte didn't necessarily want to keep pushing her luck with Pinky, as the girl had been incredibly hospitable for the entirety of her time with Charlotte, so she continued forward, eyes on the look out for John in case he decided to show up and potentially take her with him. _I'd rather cooking than killing..._

_Rook said you were capable of change, Charlie - sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do, you know that..._

Arriving eventually to her room, Charlotte was clipped back to her bed and with barely a wave, Pinky vacated the room, eager to go back to her usual post. Charlotte lay in her cot, concentrating - even attempting meditation, in hopes of remembering her time within the trials, but she had no luck, it was just a big, black void she couldn't penetrate. Feeling bile rise to the back of her throat, she thought of Rook - _what would Rook do? Has he killed before?_ His brown eyes and cheeky smile appeared at the forefront of her mind, and it gave her a small reassurance, somehow. For the short time that she had known the guy, he did obviously have an impact on her.

Rolling over to her side, she grimaced, a spring jabbing her once again in her side as she faced her open doorway, curled up within herself. With a hum, she lulled herself into sleep, just wanting temporary peace away from the world she had no choice in being in. She dreamed of her Grandmother, her little brother, her older sister - her Ma, and Pa, Thanksgiving. Sitting around the table, they all ate with their hands like animals, and she watched with her knife and fork clutched between her fingers in a death grip. Slowly, the food became bloodied in their mouths, smearing around their faces and between their fingers as they ravaged the food. 

"Come on, Charlie - why don't you join in with us?" Her brother asked, smile crooked, blood crusted between his teeth.

"Charlotte, it's rude to keep your family waiting." Her mother tutted.

"Charlotte, you either stop dreaming or you join us, it's that simple." Her father sneered at her, banging a fist down on the table, the food having now turned into bones that rattled like hollowed logs. Her sister smiled demurely, patting her lips with a napkin before clutching her hands together in prayer.

"Dear lord, forgive Charlie for she has sinned..." Her face contorted into a sneer, similar to that of how she would goad Charlotte into mischief. Charlotte could only stare at the dreamscape in front of her, at a loss for words. Warm hands gripped her shoulders and she turned, Jacob leaning over her shoulder, gaze soft as he rubbed her shoulders in a reassuring motion.

"Come on baby" He leaned in closer, voice dipping lower and crooning close to her ear, "take a bite for me, would ya?"

She looked down at her plate, the food that was once there had been replaced by a human brain. She felt his arms wrap around her, his hands taking her own and begin to cut the brain with the knife and fork, she could only just watch, transfixed. 

"It's only a bite, Charlotte. Give me what I want." As the fork got closer to her lips, he continued to hum into her ear. "Give me what I want..."

As if being physically ripped from the dream, she bolted upright in her bed, clutching her chest as if it would stop the pounding reverberating within it. Tears trembled within her lids, but she refused to cry. Not now. 

_Give me what I want._

"What do you want...?" She stared forward, the question lingering within the air like a mist.


	6. Femme Fatale

"Well, well, well...if it isn't my little _chef de cuisine_?"

Charlotte rolled over to face the doorway, eyes opening and focusing on the figure at the doorway. John Seed, in all of his arrogant glory, leaned against it, smirking down at her while she lay in her bed. She sat upright, warily staring at him. _Guess I didn't need to find him, he found me..._

"John-- Sir. I heard you were here." He walked further into the room and opened his arms, as if he was a prize and she was the recipient.

"Imagine my surprise to hear that there was a security threat here, and it ended up being _you_." His aviators glinted under the florescent light of her room as he titled his head forward, regarding the chain around her ankle and her appearance. Ever the lawyer, no emotion slid through his cocky façade, but Charlotte indulged him none-the-less.

"You sound disappointed." He grinned, full of teeth - it must have been a Seed trait, as Jacob had the same smile. 

"Not at all, in fact I was quite impressed." He walked further in, perching himself at the end of her bed. She curled herself further away, sitting upright against the wall.

"How are you finding it up here? _Miss_ _home?_ " Her eyes narrowed at him, which only made him grin wider. 

"You miss me, don't you? I mean, I'd miss me." He leaned further into her space, one arm bracing himself on the blankets of her bed while he crooned. The ongoing flirting was always a catch at Seed Ranch, he did it always to get a rise out of her. A sultry remark there, a brush of the hand here, was enough to throw her off entirely. She wasn't wanting to play his games today, she wasn't necessarily in the mood for him to get an ego boost, so she half-smiled, unwinding herself, splaying her legs until they dangled off of the side. 

"I don't know, _sir,_ Jacob takes such good care of me. He's shown me quite the hospitality." The smirk on John's face dropped slightly, and an icy tone took ahold of his gaze. 

"...has he now?" She knew she was in no position to play this dangerous game with John, but maybe if she approached his jealousy, perhaps he would be in a position to uplift her from the Whitetails all together. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she looked away, smiling towards her lap in an attempt to appear coy. 

"He has. I almost miss Seed Ranch sometimes, but then he reminds me how much he values me." John froze in his spot, his hand twitching only slightly within the blankets of her bed. _Bingo._ Sitting forward, he trailed his fingers along the length of her leg, starting from her knee and brushing up towards her thigh, making her tense at his touch. The blood rush to her face involuntarily, his gaze never leaving the side of her face. He wanted her reaction, wanted her _attention_. 

"And pray tell, how does he show you how much he values you?" With a strong grip, he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look directly into his own steely eyes. _John doesn't like to share his toys._

"More than you ever did, sir." She murmured, eyes unable to leave his own as he loomed within her space. She knows she is only spitting lies, and surely he would know, but the mere thought that she, something that John felt he previously owned, was happier in the (metaphorical) arms of his brother, or perhaps his brother had access to something that he didn't, was enough to stroke his jealous streak. 

"What did I say to you, when you left Seed Ranch, Charlotte?" _If I can't have you, he can't either._ As if she had said the words out loud herself, his hand wound behind her neck, pulling her further forward towards him, the cocky shit-eating grin back on his face. 

" _That's it_. You remember, don't you--?"

"Having fun tormenting my soldiers, John?" Charlotte whipped her head towards the doorway, Jacob was standing there, regarding both John and Charlotte with a glower. John slowly turned around from Charlotte and stood up from her bed, arms out in a welcoming gesture.   
  
" _Brother_ , just catching up with one of my favorites! You mentioned she's been a bit _troublesome_ , I'd be happy to take her off your hands--" 

"Joseph said you could? After the _Pepper_ incident?" John froze at the mention of Joseph, shoulders rigid. _Pepper? As in...Holly?_

"Jacob, come on! That's old news now! She's with Faith, and with the chaos that the Deputy has been racking up in the Valley, I need all the help I can get - including Miss Dunn here." She blinked at the use of her last name, feeling a chill go up her spine. _I...never told anyone - especially him, my last name._ Jacob stood straighter, his eyes briefly flicking over to her, languidly sitting on her bed, then to the chain around her ankle, then back to John, staying silent. _He's probably trying to see what John's endgame is..._

"I don't think so, John - not this one. She's not ready." His hand twitched by his side at the groan John released, frustrated. Charlotte chose to stay silent, watching the brothers interact. She wondered if Jacob had the same jealous streak as John, were both possessive as each other? _If so, perhaps I could use this to my advantage..._

"Jake, one less issue for you to worry about, and I get to have my little _la servante_ _back_ , if you'd like to talk to Joseph about it, I'd be more than happy to--" Jacob turned, his posture almost bored as he strolled into the corridor. 

"Yeah John, lets talk to Joseph." John stood still for a moment, his form frozen before he began to stroll out of the room to follow Jacob, not before giving her a salute. 

"See you soon, _mon cheri_." Silence filled the air once the men had left, and Charlotte stood up from her bed, pacing towards the chair sitting at her desk, her cookbook tossed to the side. She sat down, tapping her fingers against the cool metal and stared at her hazy reflection. If Jacob was just as jealous as his brother, viewing his soldiers as his property, then perhaps she could use this to her advantage. John had a strong attraction to her, that was clear, but it would have been purely for the fact that he wasn't allowed to have her, surely nothing deeper than that. Leaning forward, she took in her eyes, her nose, freckles, lips - she wasn't necessarily ugly, she never considered herself to be pretty, and definitely not the type to be a femme fatale, but she could play that part. 

With Jacob, she wondered if it was even possible to flirt with the guy, wondered what got him going. John was fairly easy to rile up, from what she heard from Holly, but Jacob was a completely different ball game. She was desperate, eager to not kill anyone, to _leave_. In her mind, her sister laughed.

_Use what God gave ya, sis!_

In her memory, she was wearing a black dress, her sister motioning to her rack lewdly. They were getting ready for a night out, one that her Grandmother would have very much disapproved of her having at the age of eighteen. She misses that little silk black dress. _Use what God gave ya, sis!_

Clasping her hands together, she rested her chin on top of them whilst she sat at the table. _It's worth a shot..._

* * *

Pinky returned later in the day, muttering something about clearing out cobwebs as she walked through the door. Charlotte was sat on her bed, her soldier jacket removed, her shirt unbuttoned to show cleavage - hell, she even pinched her mouth and her cheeks to bring colour to the surface. Pinky blinked, as if unsure what had changed with her appearance. 

"Hey girl, you ready for target practice?" Charlotte shook her head. 

"Could you take me to Jacob please? I just need to have a chat with him about something." Pinky adjusted her rifle against her shoulder, apprehensive. 

"I don't know, he has been a bit touchy since John was here--"

"Please, Pinky. It's important." Pinky sighed before walking forward to unbuckle brace that held Charlotte captive. She gripped Charlotte by her arm, leading her softly through the doorway and through the corridor. Charlotte zoned out of her companion's babbling, attempting to keep her nerves down. This plan of hers wasn't a end-all plan, it was an investment, she would need to be careful with Jacob, one wrong move, he would kill her - end of story. 

Pinky's voice became white noise as Charlotte took a deep breath, the nerves within her stomach pulsating like tumours, butterflies threatening to rip themselves out of her throat. The blood against her cheeks throbbed and she wiped her palms against her jeans, nervous. She was not a flirt, she was not _sexy_ , she needed to channel sexy, _just like Karla_. Her sister was always the charismatic one, tall, blonde - like her, hourglass figure. Could get any guy she wanted with the right bat of her eyelashes. As if practicing through the corridor, she sashayed her hips, just like how her sister would, standing tall and pushing her bust out, which was difficult given the fact Pinky was dragging her along by her forearm. 

The journey to Jacob's office seemed to take forever as Pinky took several lefts and rights, a few staircases here and there, making it impossible for Charlotte to remember the way to their destination. She wasn't sure if the other woman was doing it on purpose, or if she was just wanting a reason to talk to someone, either way it was annoying. 

Pinky came to a sudden stop outside of a familiar door, thumping her fist against the wood with three strong strikes. Shuffling could be heard behind it, and eventually Peaches-- Pratt, opened the door. He blinked, staring at Pinky, then at Charlotte before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

"Now isn't the best time." Pinky stared at Charlotte, who pulled her arm away from her, standing tall with her arms crossed at her chest - _like Jacob_.

"I need to speak with him, it's important." She breathed the nerves out through her nose, _confidence is key, Charlie - guys love that shit_. Pratt stepped back, running a shaky hand through his hair before letting out a breath.

"I'll ask. Wait here." Without another word, he disappeared behind the door with a light click. Pinky looked towards Charlotte and shrugged, stepping back against the wall of the corridor to lean against it. Charlotte held her ground by the door - counting the seconds of a nearby clock that reverberated in her brain as they waited for Pratt to come out. 

He returned a few minutes later, opening the door wide and motioning to Pinky and Charlotte to come through. Charlotte held up her hand in the middle of the door way to stop Pinky from following. 

"It's a private matter, Pinky. If you don't mind." Said woman shrugged once again and returned to the wall, wringing her hands together, 

"Suit yaself, girl - I got stuff I need to do anyway." 

Charlotte turned and walked back within to the office that she had only seen once before, when she came to the Whitetails. The lights were on in full force this time, papers littered the floor and desk as if someone had thrown a tantrum, glass from a nearby gas lamp was scattered through the debris of what was once a fairly organised office. Pratt pointed to the chair in front of the desk, asking her to sit, before he turned to a nearby adjoining door, one she hadn't noticed the first time around, and closing it behind him. Shuffling could be heard behind the door, and Jacob walked in, dog tags clinking against his chest as he adjusted his jacket over his shoulders. He looked annoyed, his normal closed-off façade a distant memory as she regarded his tense posture. 

Jacob stalked to his chair in front of her, ignoring the papers and forms on the floor, and sitting down, hands clasped in front of him as he glowered over them to her. _He was in a mood..._

"What." The tone was clipped, it caught her _way more off guard_ than she thought it would, causing her to jump slightly. 

"I...really wanted to see you." Inwardly, she cringed. _Nice work, Charlie._ His face didn't change, he only continued to stare at her, his eyes piercing through her like ice picks. The silence was overwhelming, and Charlotte could feel herself growing more anxious, her previous idea of being a _sexy motherfucker_ as Karla would put it, was crumbling beneath her feet. At an attempt to regain her balance, she pulled her chair forward, and perched elbows onto the desk, noting his knee bobbing up and down. She tucked her hair behind her ear - she had left it down this time, it was tickling against her collarbone, as she leaned forward, her cleavage coming into view. She notice his gaze drop only for a split second, but it was enough for her to keep going. 

"When you had interrupted the Baptist and I...I wanted to thank you, sir." He continued to stare forward, his eyes dropping to her lips. Sensing his gaze there, she bit her lower lip and looked away to the side, trailing her fingers along her collarbone as if in contemplation. 

"He was being...forceful with me, and I didn't like it. Saying something about me returning to Seed Ranch." From her periphery, she could see his knee had stopped moving, he had gone as still as he possibly could have. She stood up, walking around the desk to stand near him, sashaying her hips, pulling her hair to the side of her neck as she crossed her arms under her bust, accentuating them. Perching herself on his desk, her knee brushed up against his, his eyes darted to it briefly before returning back to her face, his eyes not letting any emotion show. 

"I told him I didn't want to go, that I was _happy here._ " She let her voice go breathy, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment from the whole situation. "With _you..._ " Jacob let out a long sigh, standing up to his full height, and dragging her by her hips to the center of the desk in front of him. He stood between her legs, looming down at her and her heart thumped, her chest heaved under his stare. With a gentle hand, he touched her face, pulling her lower lip free from her teeth, brushing it with his thumb before he let a small smile curve onto his face. 

"You are really cute, you know that, doll?" She blinked, not expecting to ever hear the word _cute_ come from his mouth. His smile turned sarcastic as he leaned forward, pressing himself closer to her, face only inches away from hers. He wrapped his hands around her neck, positioning her head to stay where it was, her hair tangled within them.

"You think you're the first to try this act on me?" He stared into her eyes, the intensity burning brighter than she had ever seen them and she stared back, waiting for the ticking time bomb to combust. 

"You think you can just walk on in here, hit on an ugly man like me, and expect me to roll over and do whatever you want? Because you're _pretty_? I expected that from others, doll, but not from you." He shoved her back, her back hitting the wood of his desk, as he stood over her. His hands gripped her thighs as he pried her legs apart further, bringing them closer than she had been with someone in a very, long time. She felt heat rush to her core faster than ever, her chest heaved as she drank in the position, focusing on his eyes, the flutter of his thumbs on her clothed thighs, how close he was to her--

"So, what have you got to say for yourself? Any last words until this _charade_ is over?" Somehow, in the recess of her mind, she felt guilt wind into her gut, guilt but also sadness. What torment did he face to hate himself so much? She tried to remember _why_ she was doing this, but also could not think, his presence being so overwhelming, so predatory, he had somehow tapped into a part of her own lust that she didn't even know existed. His fingers dug into her thighs and she let out a low moan - involuntarily, causing them both to become still, the tension in the room pulsating around them.

"I don't think you're ugly at all, Jacob..." She wasn't lying. Closing her thighs around his hips, pressing him closer to her with her legs and feet, she let temporary lust take over her. "I think you're the most beautiful man I have ever met." He looked away, stepping from between her thighs and walking away from the desk, and towards the door. She got up from her position, feeling embarrassed over her sincere confession and followed him. He didn't look at her as he ripped open the door.

"Get. Out." He didn't need to tell her twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate the comments - I'm not the best at writing but, I just wanted to say thank you to those who take the time to read and comment. :)  
> Hope you all have a wonderful day.


	7. Radio Gaga

After her failed attempt at seduction with _obviously_ the wrong Seed brother, Charlotte wanted nothing more than to be swallowed whole into the ground, never to be unearthed again. It was an embarrassment - a total failure that she was _thankful_ that her sister did not ever see it in person. What was she thinking? Sure, she did get the information out of him that he thought of her as attractive, but in a testosterone-filled environment such as St Francis, of course he would have reacted at the mere hint of estrogen-filled seduction. In conclusion, Charlotte felt like a complete and utter _dick._

She sighed as Pinky removed the brace around her ankle, the momentary freedom to begin to run her least favourite thing that has become a recent development - drills. According to Pinky, she was due for her next trials, something that Charlotte wasn't exactly thrilled about and tried to push back into the deep recess of her mind. A new trial meant she would have to kill (again), and she really didn't want to go through that (again). Sure, she didn't know who she killed the first time around, or how she killed them, or even _how many_ she had killed (Pinky either didn't know or didn't want to confide such information in her), but it still bothered her none-the-less. She had taken a life, in exchange for what? Sometimes when she is alone at night, she wonders about it. 

Perhaps she lost something at the same time - it felt like losing her innocence all over again. She felt shame, guilty of something she can't even remember.

Pinky began to run a circuit around St Francis and Charlotte followed, her lungs already heaving as she struggled to keep up to pace with the chatty girl - who continued to chat in her ear as if they weren't sprinting. She often spoke about her own life, never really asking Charlotte questions about her own history, and Charlotte appreciated it. Pinky made the fucked up situation she was in relatively normal, even going as far as to call it 'girl time'.

"--and you know I said yes to that, I mean come on? A trip to Hawaii? _Totally my thing_ , but you know what? Day before he was meant to book, y'know what he said?" Charlotte grunted, the red pulsating under her cheeks as she heaved to stay up with Pinky. "He told me he was going to _take his wife!_ I didn't even know he had a wife! And that's when I decided, no more married men, it's the life of celibacy for me!" Charlotte rolled her eyes. 

"Came to the-- _urgh-- best_ place for it." 

"Celibacy or men?" Pinky paused suddenly, standing straight with her arms on her hips, only lightly breathing through her balaclava. Charlotte skidded to a stop and bent at the waist, breathing and fanning herself down in the momentary break before standing up straight, readjusting her hair on top of her head.

" _Both."_ Pinky laughed, coming out like an obnoxious choke before pulling off her mask to take a sip of water from her canteen. Charlotte took in her fair, freckled face, bright ginger hair and green eyes. This was the first time that she had seen her without her mask before, and she was a striking beauty. Charlotte looked away from Pinky, choosing to stare at the dirt between her own booted feet, feeling as though she was intruding on Pinky's space by oogling her side profile. 

"Y'know, Jacob hasn't left you alone since your time in his office." Charlotte shot up straight, looking at Pinky as she wagged her eyebrows and winked. The flush on Charlotte's face only deepened as she frowned. _I haven't seen him in days...?_ As if sensing the remark on the tip of her tongue, the red head gave her a light punch against her arm. 

"Was in the canteen when you were eating, has been walking down the corridor to your room - a lot, to check in for _updates._ " Pinky winked again before nodding towards the building. "He's up there right now actually, staring." Charlotte spun around, and sure enough, Jacob stood on the balcony. He stiffened slightly as their eyes connected before turning to a nearby group of Chosen, barking an order. 

Charlotte shrugged, taking a sip of water. "He doesn't trust me." Pinky laughed, replacing her balaclava back over her head.

"I'd love to see how he is when he does trust you." Charlotte didn't have the chance to reply as Pinky sped off, continuing their drills alongside the building.

* * *

It wasn't until Pinky had pointed it out that Charlotte began to notice Jacob loitering around her peripheral vision - _a lot_. He would pass by her doorway multiple times a day as she reconstructed guns at her desk, reading her cook book, or even just lying in her bed. When Pinky would escort her to get food, he would walk in with Pratt, under the guise of also getting food (which she noticed he rarely ate) and would sit nearby, murmuring to commanders, his gaze never quite leaving her until she left the room.

Pratt also was becoming quite the common sight, standing outside as she was given time to breathe fresh air, dropping off new books to her room, not saying much - if anything. She was beginning to feel uneasy, she knew she was being watched but this was some _next level bullshit._ Pinky sat in her room, feet up on her desk as she flicked through the Book of Joseph, humming to herself. Her belongings where estray on the desk like she owned the place - granted, there wasn't much Charlotte could do about it as the girl was a current permanent fixture in her life, so she tolerated how comfortable she made herself in her presence. 

Charlotte sat on her bed, flicking through her copy of Emma at a poor attempt to relax.

Pratt walked in, another book clutched in his hand ready to deliver to Charlotte. With a shaky grasp, he placed it on the desk next to Pinky's feet. Pinky hummed, picking up the book to read the back.

"Pride and Prejudice, huh? Nice."

"Jacob needs to see you, Pinky." The red head stood up from the desk and stretched, giving Charlotte a salute before stalking towards the door. Pratt eyed Charlotte, looking back to her metal desk and then back to her, giving her a stare before walking out behind Pinky. Charlotte straightened up, the depth of his gaze making her uneasy. She looked over to Pinky's belongings that she had strung out across her desk, obviously feeling comfortable enough to leave them there for her to look after, and then she saw it. A radio.

She bolted upright, looking at the desk, then looking at the camera situated in her room, it's red light blinking ominously, as if taunting her to _try it_. At an attempt to look bored, she stood up from her bed and stretched, walking over to the desk and picking up the copy of Pride and Prejudice that Pratt had left for her. Sliding into the chair she leaned over, covering the radio with the crook of her arm, under the guise that she was going to read. From this angle, it would _in theory_ look like she was reading, well she hoped it would. As she turned the page, she slid the radio into her lap, crossing her forearms in front of her on the desk and leaning her head on them. 

This was probably, most likely, going to get her killed - or Pinky killed, but it was a risk she was willing to take. 


	8. Hand

After the radio being a gift from Pratt - _why else had he given her that look_ , Charlotte took a few days before she could do anything about it. Pinky mentioned having misplaced the radio upon returning back to her room later that day, but quickly moved on, mentioning that she had spares precisely for the amount of times she lost it. It was at moments like this, where it was just _way_ too easy, that Charlotte often wondered if she was secretly in a TV show, like the Truman Show, and that these things were being planted in her lap purely for the audience's amusement.

The reason she thought as such was once again, just because of how _easy_ it was. A slight of an arm there, and presto, radio in lap, and now all she needed was a moment of time where she wasn't being stared at before she can begin fiddling with the radio.

She decided the best time to do so would be of course, during the only period of time where she was alone - during her not-as-often-as-she-would-like bathing sessions. Drifting her fingers across the side of the radio, feeling the grip of rubber, she hoped it was waterproof, folding it within her towel as she trudged behind Pinky, walking as non-descript as she could possibly muster towards the showers. She was lucky in the sense that Pinky (and a part of her also thinks Jacob) allowed her to shower on her own, behind a bolted door, obviously trusting her enough to not do anything stupid. On her journey through the corridor, Jacob and Pratt turned the corner, the red-headed man deliberately averting his eyes and blatantly ignoring her as he stormed past, if his posture was anything to go by, he was _not_ in a good mood. Again.

Pratt cast her a look, a deeper stare and Charlotte returned it with a small smile, in hopes that he understood that they were on the same page. As if she had physically removed the burden from his shoulders, he relaxed only slightly, continuing to shadow the raging bear himself down the hall. Reaching the showers, Pinky waved her in, promising to stand guard so 'no idiots would get the wrong idea', which once again, Charlotte was grateful for. Pinky annoyed her, sure, but in the short amount of time that they had spent together, the rapport that they had established was bordering on 'work friend' level. 

Bolting the door behind her, Charlotte dropped her towel with the radio to the floor, sprinting across the off-white tile to twist the dial of the shower. Cold water cascaded down, sending a shiver up her spine - luckily for her, it was a heavy pressure that drowned out all sound within the room. Just to be sure, she tested it with a low whistle, one that wouldn't raise the suspicions of her friend/guard outside. Stripping down, she picked up the radio and walked towards the shower, lowering herself to the floor out of the spray and began to fiddle with it until it fizzed to life. 

Lowering the volume with the dial, she began to flick through frequencies, listening out for familiar voices. The radio was relatively quiet, until she landed on what she wanted.

"--going to blow up that _fucking_ 'Yes' sign, obnoxious piece of shit--" She couldn't help the grin that spread across her cheeks, it hurt. Pressing the button, she kept her voice low, unable to stop the shake in her voice.

"Rook!" There was a silence on the other line at first, and she wondered if she had ever pressed the button at all, looking the radio over and giving it a smack or two for equal measure.

"...Cookie?" She gave herself the treat of a little dance as she sat on the floor. 

"Yes! It's me! How are you? Where are you? Are you coming--" 

"Look darl, we're working on it, but I don't think you should be talking on this frequency--" She frowned, looking down at the radio, the spray of water beginning to freeze her knees. 

"...Why?" 

"It's a public frequency, Miss Dunn." She dropped the radio to her feet, finally feeling the chill of the water spread through her body as John crooned into the radio. Leaping to her feet, she quickly washed herself in record time, all the while John continued to goad her and Rook through the radio.

"Oh, don't stop on my account you two - Charlotte, we were just having a lovely conversation about the Deputy attempting to _blow up_ _something that wasn't theirs._ Imagine my surprise when you jumped in, it's truly made my day. How has things been for you at St Francis? Are you ready to come home?" She couldn't reply, shouldn't reply - she had already fucked up monumentally. In the forefront of her mind, she could see Pratt's face, disfigured and disappointed, she hoped he wouldn't be linked to this mistake on her part. 

Fiddling with the radio, as she finished bathing, she turned it off and threw it across the floor, watching it land with a large clang as it connected with the tile. She rushed to her clothes and dressed quickly, tying her hair up on top of her head, her default look, as she shook herself of nerves. _Maybe Jacob won't know. Maybe, I'll be alive for just a bit longer--_

As if God had heard her, she opened the door only to stare into the chest of the man himself, Pinky and Pratt nowhere to be seen.

"...oh shit." With a push, he pulled her back into the bathroom and bolted the door, rounding on her and pushing her close to a nearby sink, like a lion stalking its prey. He caged her in, trapping her with his arms on either side of her, bending at the neck to loom close to her, eyes unmoving from her own. He didn't say anything at first, just stared her down, to the point where she felt herself trembling. _This is really it._

"Cookie." He murmured, so quietly that she wasn't sure she almost heard him at first. "Now, where did a nickname like that come into the equation, _Charlotte?_ "

"...the c-cook book." He nodded with a hum, before gripping her face so suddenly that it almost gave her whiplash. She felt herself flush, his inability to not tap into a _certain_ side of her that she didn't know even existed had decided to return like the plague, riddling her with nervous energy. He made her feel like there were butterflies, with knives, lightly dancing across her skin. She curled her toes involuntarily as he pressed his fingers deeper into her face, making sure all she could see was him.

"Now, I'm going to make things very clear for you, doll." He punctuated his words with a press of a hand to her neck, leaning only a hairsbreadth away from her face, almost muttering into her lips. 

"You're not going anywhere, you're not going to be saved, you're only alive because I want you to be, and if you continue this little rebellious act, which quite frankly, _you fucking suck at it_ , you will die." Once again, her body reacted to his words, perhaps she was an adrenaline junkie, because she felt her face flush even brighter as his grip tightened once again.

"Are. We. Clear?" She blinked, his tone low and clipped.

"C-Crystal." She muttered weakly and he stepped away, dog tags clinking as he looked her up and down before turning to the door in an effort to leave. For some reason, perhaps it was lust, she wasn't sure, she gripped his wrist and pulled him back, bringing him back into her space and looping her arms around his neck. He looked at her with no emotion, his arms coming to rest at her hips almost naturally. 

"Now what are you doing?" She tugged at the small tuft of hair at the back of his neck lightly, and watched his eyes seemingly begin to glow with something _other_ than anger. Without warning, leaned forward on her toes, brushing her lips against his experimentally. He tensed, gripping her hips as a warning, which only spurred her on more. _If I'm going to die, might as well do what I want._ Sitting back onto the sink, she pulled him between her thighs by his belt, bringing her arms back around his neck, his posture never quite relaxing. 

"If I'm going to die, I'm going to make sure I die happy." The words tumbled out of her mouth, like she was drunk, and before he could do anything, she pulled him down and crashed her lips to his. He responded immediately, his hands that were keeping him bay at her hips looped within her hair as he kissed her breathlessly, he was pure carnage, passion and all Charlotte could do was breathe him in and hold onto him like her life depended on it. 

She dug her nails into his shoulders and he groaned, his hands moving from her hair and her face down to the hem of her shirt, slipping under and caressing the warm skin underneath. She couldn't get enough of Jacob, her captor, her prison. She should have felt the opposite, she should have felt disgust, but the only thing she could feel was the inferno of his body and the electric shock of his touch. She bit his lip, in a primal motion she had personally never done before and it was like the spell had been lifted, Jacob let go of her like she was on fire, letting her cling to the sink as he stepped away, walking towards the door, unbolting it and ripping it open, never once looking back.

* * *

Pratt was the one to return her to her room, pulling her along with a light grip after Jacob had left her in the bathroom, Pinky was nowhere to be seen. He was silent, cautious, as he lead her through the corridors, nodding at Chosen who walked past them. She didn't know what to say, the failure of the radio left her feeling like she let him down, but she knew she owed him something - anything. 

"He's okay. He's coming." She murmured low, watching his shoulders stiffen briefly before he turned to her and nodded. He walked her into her room, bolting her back onto the floor and gave her cell a sweep before eyeing the camera on the wall up with a quick gaze. Turning his back to it, he finally addressed her.

"Whatever happens, Charlotte, please don't think of it as your fault." She blinked, feeling a frown slip onto her lips before she could stop it.

"What do you mean?" He gave the camera a nervous glace before turning back to her. 

"Here-- especially at St Francis, all actions have consequences." She felt a cold feeling shift within the room as she pondered his words. With a nod, he walked away, leaving her to think it over. Laying in her bed, she stared at the ceiling, the florescence of the light beginning to twitch and flicker as she reviewed the events of the day. She knew she was fucked the moment she stole that radio, she also knew she was more fucked the moment she kissed Jacob, but what consequences would she be facing? _Another trial?_ She curled within herself, hugging her pillow as she faced the wall. 

Maybe, just maybe, she was going to die tomorrow. Just like she said. _Did you die happy?_ She could hear her Grandmother speak, taunting her in her minds eye. _Kissing a maniac because you felt like it? Did it make you happy, Charlotte?_

She didn't know how long it took for her to fall to sleep, unsure of what time of day it was, but when she did, she dreamt of nothing. It was as if she were floating in a pool of water, the room black, the sky lit with stars. It wasn't peaceful for her however, it just made her feel uneasy. When she awoke, it was to the sound of a thump against her desk and boots across concrete. Tensing, she stared at the wall, her back to the occupant, and she waited for them to turn and leave, in which they did. It wasn't Pinky, she would have woken her up to chat about her day so cautiously, she turned over, staring at the box on her desk.

Sitting up, she looked around, eyes itchy from her sleep, she stood up from her cot and walked towards the old box that sat there. The corridors were quiet, only the sound of her breathing and the receding footsteps of the person who gave her the package could be heard as she caressed the box. _Perhaps it's more books? I haven't even started the one Pratt left earlier..._ With a sigh, she unfolded the box and stared down at its contents.

A severed hand, missing one Pinky finger, stared back at her.


	9. Wrath

She didn't know how long she sat at her desk, the hand laying limp within the open box in front of her as she gazed at it. It was almost like an out of body experience, she felt numb once again, as she counted the fingers of the hand, noted the freckled dusted over it and the blood that began to congeal at the bottom of the box, seeping onto her metal table like a rash. Her fingers lay in her lap as she stared forward, the faint feeling of static under her skin from disuse as she sat limply.

Charlotte wondered if Pinky was alive, wondered if she was being looked after, if they had sliced her hand off in one swift glide, or if they hacked it off. She wondered if Pinky was in pain, or if she were sedated. She wondered if Pinky would forgive her, it was her fault entirely that she lost her hand. Finally allowing herself to move, Charlotte leaned forward onto the desk, elbows propped up and linked her fingers together, closing her eyes as she leaned forward into her palms. The feeling of guilt was oddly reminiscent of the last time she had saw her Grandmother alive. 

_Charlie, you're involved in God's plan, all of your actions, all of your doubt for Him, he will remember that and he won't take fondly to you when you're ready to walk into the Gates of Heaven--_

She wanted to cry, she really, really did, but no tears came, only her shoulders sagged with her remorse. 

"I'm so sorry..." 

_If you hadn't had taken that radio, if you had just left it..._ Charlotte sat back in her chair and stared upward into the camera, watching the red light blink at her and frowned. _He's watching me...I know he is._ She couldn't take her eyes off of the bright, small light as it blipped to and from existence, and slowly she felt herself daze back out to the blip, hypnotized. 

Once when she was in third-grade, she saw two boys getting into a fight. They threw sloppy fists, one split their lip open and cried. As an act to keep the rest of the troops in order, the teacher pulled her class into a meeting and explained how fighting was wrong. A boy in her class asked her, _what if someone deserved it?_ to which her teacher never had the definitive answer, just replying with 'fighting is wrong'. So, Charlotte asked her Grandmother.

Knitting in her worn leather armchair, her Grandmother never took her eyes off of her work, and simply just replied ' _open your mouth for the mute, for the rights of all who are destitute. Open your mouth, judge righteously, defend the poor and needy._ '

It was a bible passage, Charlotte couldn't remember which, but as she sat staring at the camera, she kept feeling the words on the tip of her tongue. Sliding her tongue over her teeth, she craned her neck away from the camera and back to Pinky's hand. Slowly, she dragged the box forward, noting the blood smear along as she stared closer at Pinky's hand. She didn't help Pinky, she judged her at first, and put her in danger. _When did I become so selfish?_

The blood from the box was overpowering, the smell coating the inside of her nose and her mouth, the metallic taste lingering enough to bring Charlotte back to reality, just like smelling salts, and before she could even process what was happening, she slammed her own fist down on the table, and then again, again, and as if her shock had finally worn off, her indifference was replaced with anger, pure unadulterated anger. She looked up with gritted teeth to the camera again, it's blinking really _pissing her off_ and she stood up, the chair behind her hitting the floor with a loud clang. _He is watching me._

"Hey, you _motherfucker_!" She screeched, pointing at the camera like it was Jacob Seed himself. "You are a fucking _cunt-- a power hungry, lonely, egotistic fucking cunt_ , this little fucking _power trip_ you're on doesn't mean absolute shit. You'll be a sad fuck until the end of your fucking days - you are so fucking _unhappy_ that you can't allow anyone else a single fucking ounce of happiness!" She took a deep breath, running her hand through her hair as the anger boiled under her skin. 

Pacing back and forward, she clicked her fingers and balled up her fist, throwing a punch at the surface of the metal table, the box swaying with the force, and turned back to the camera. 

"You wanted a reaction, you fucking _cunt_? She didn't deserve that, it wasn't _her fucking fault_ , it was _mine._ " Feeling the rage overwhelm her, she picked up the chair and walked towards the camera, propping it up against the wall for her to stand on it and stare as close as she could within its lens. 

"You fucking _take something of hers, and I'll fucking take something of yours, you fucking prick._ " 

* * *

She had managed to break the camera with the copy of Pride and Prejudice that Pratt had given her earlier, and she was honestly a bit surprised that no one had come in after her little outburst to do anything about it. From its plastic casing, she pulled it from the wall, snapping the wires behind it like they were just string and threw it across the room, watching in satisfaction as it hit the floor with a clang.

She paced back and forth once again, chewing at her nails, the wrath settling on her skin like a mist, and then she saw it, a small glimpse of plastic in the corner of the room - a shard. Looking down to the leather strap around her ankle, she pounced on it, touching it to test its edge - it must have fallen to the floor splintered after her fit. Walking back to the bed, she sat down and listened, noting the unusual silence of the corridor and room. Surely, a Chosen would have come in by now, she made enough commotion that the county probably could have heard her, much less St Francis, so she slipped the shard between her fingers and waited. 

Charlotte watched the open doorway, her foot tapping against the frame of her cot as she listened for something, or anything, but the room and the corridor were eerie. Not wanting to wait any longer, she slipped the shard of plastic out and began to carve at the leather strap around her ankle. She could feel the plastic dig into her skin, but through gritted teeth, she kept carving through the leather at a painstaking pace. She didn't know how long it took, it could have been ten minutes, an hour, perhaps longer, but eventually the binding when slack at her ankle and she lept up, rolling her free ankle around a few times before walking towards her doorway.

With a tenative glance outside her room, she noted the lack of guards and frowned, sensing that something was incredibly _off._ Not wanting to lose the opportunity, she walked forward into the corridor and began to creep through, the shard of plastic still in her hand, and her bare feet making no noise against the concrete floor. She padded forward, against the wall, _like Pinky trained her_ , and through the double doors leading up the stairs from her room underneath St Francis.

Once at the top of the stairs, she peeked around, noting only one guard standing post a few feet away, armed with a baseball bat of some sort as he stared forward down the opposite corridor. She quickly checked the surrounding areas as much as she could, before ducking behind a group of crates that sat to the left of the iron stairwell. _No cameras, no problems._ Clutching the plastic, she crept to the guard slowly, ducking behind him. Without further thought, she swung, the shard impaling the man in the throat and he shrieked, clutching his neck as he spun around. Using the moment to her advantage, she wrenched the bat from his fingers and swung, knocking him in the temple with as much force as she could muster. The bald man dropped to the floor with a thud, and Charlotte swung again, and again, painting the walls and herself with his blood. 

Feeling out of breath, she leaned the bat against the wall and clutched his ankles, dragging the man behind a stack of crates that were situated next to the stairs - it took a lot of energy, and her arms ached, but she couldn't let them see his body, even if the blood was a major indication of foul play. Padding over to the bat once again, she gripped it in her palm, and continued to creep down the hallway towards the doors, she heard a loud crash behind her and turned, noting the sound having come from a storage closet to her left. Holding up the bat, she walked slowly and peeked through the door. 

Pratt was tied up, badly beaten on the floor of the closet. ... _take something of hers, and I'll fucking take something of yours, you fucking prick._

Charlotte grinned and walked forward, putting her bat down and crouching to untie Pratt from his restraints. He gurgled a bit as he looked up, taking in her manic appearance with black eyes, a rope tied around his head and between his lips. Pulling off his restraints, she helped him up, looping his arm over her shoulders. He was quite a lot taller than her, so it would have looked a bit silly to an outsider, but it was the best she could do if she was going to try escape with him. 

"What are you-- what are you doing?" She felt his breath tickle her cheek as she stood up, clutching her bat with her right hand and supporting Pratt with her left. 

" _We_ are getting the fuck out of here." He studied the side of her face with an indescribable emotion before nodding. They began to walk out of the storage closet, his feet dragging behind her as they made their slow ascent to get out of St Francis.

"Where is everyone? What happened to you?" She whispered as the walked through the corridor. Pratt coughed, and Charlotte noted the blood that glinted over his teeth as he spoke.

"Rook attacked with the Resistance, Joseph requested Jacob take his Chosen out to get them, leaving limited staff here. Jacob thought that I had something to do with the attack, so he gave me a makeover." Pratt gave her a small smile as she continued to adjust his weight over her shoulders. She huffed as she pushed open the double doors quietly, checking for Chosen. 

"I need you to lead me out of here, Pratt." He nodded before quietly clearing his voice, as if he was trying to hide the pain he was in. He began to lead her through the compound with quiet directions, quiet affirmations of where the Chosen were stationed so they could avoid being detected all together. The process was slow, but Charlotte remained vigilant, even as Pratt's blood began to seep into her clothes. Eventually, he lead her through to a familiar corridor, the one that would take her to outside by the cages, and the hope she felt was enough of an encouragement to disregard her tired state and to keep dragging Pratt forward. 

Stepping through the door, she noted it was night-time, the stars blinking down at her and the compound being dimly lit with old security lights. Charlotte automatically looked up at the cameras to check the direction they were facing - noting that they were trained on the entrance of St Francis, which was the only way she knew how to get out of the compound. As if sensing her, Pratt hummed close to her ear. 

"There is an entrance at the back, a small corridor that leads out. I know the code." Adjusting his weight once again, she nodded and began to walk past the cages as quickly as she could muster, noting the way Pratt grimaced at every movement, clutching his side with pain as they progressed through the compound. After a moment of walking and silence, he pointed past a few cages and she walked in that direction, spotting an old iron door with a keypad, glowing in the dark. Pratt stepped away from her with wince, stumbling to the keypad and typing the code in a slow succession before the door buzzed open, a dark corridor leading straight out of St Francis to the forest. 

Clutching the bat in her grasp once again, she helped Pratt through the walkway, through to freedom, not looking back once, even as the sirens began to blare behind them.


	10. Freedom

It had been a few hours since her second attempt to escape St Francis, and Charlotte felt like it was Groundhog Day again. 

Pausing to take a break (that her and Pratt both needed), she slumped to the ground, her chest heaving in the night air. Looking up at the stars, she had no idea where she was going, but she could only guess it was early morning, so she hoped that the sun would be rising soon to lead them on their travels. Pratt propped himself up against a nearby tree, pressing a tentative hand to his ribs and wincing - with only the moonlight to guide them, he looked absolutely ghoulish, his face swollen and his posture broken due to his injuries. Charlotte checked the bottom of her feet, cursing that in her momentary fit of rage, she had forgotten to slip on her shoes, as she picked out the rocks and debris that were firmly implanted in her bloody feet. 

She couldn't feel the pain in her feet, she couldn't feel anything at all. She was a machine, just like Jacob wanted. Readjusting her hair on top of her head, she breathed in once again, the mountain air inflating her lungs but doing nothing for the pounding of her heart in her chest. 

"I've done this before, you know. With Rook." She murmured, and in the corner of her eye, she saw Pratt turn to look at her.

"Yeah, I know." The glint of his teeth in the moonlight was enough for her to know he was smiling, an actual genuine smile. Charlotte looked to the ground once again, brushing her fingers amongst the blades of grass by her feet before turning back to Pratt, who looked to be still regarding her with a smile. 

"I can't help but feel that for a second time, he's let me walk out of there." His smile dropped as he frowned, staring at her from under the tree. 

"He's been making a lot of mistakes recently, I don't think he had this one on the cards. Especially when Rook is involved." She nodded to him, curling her toes in the grass before brushing herself off and approaching him to help him up. Looping his arm over her small stature was now a thing of habit as they began to stumble down the mountains at a slow pace. As the silence grew between them, not one that was uncomfortable, but amicable, Charlotte tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, deciding now would be the time to address the burning issue on her tongue.

"What happened to her?" Pratt stumbled slightly, as if put off guard from the question in itself. Charlotte could see his lips pursed, thinking of his answer.

"She...had made too many mistakes, Charlotte. She was on thin ice as it was and the radio...just solidified that." 

"What happened to her?" She repeated, her heart thumping in her chest rapidly as they continued their trek. 

"Jacob decided she was weak, too weak to be a Chosen, too weak to be anything and especially too weak to protect you." Charlotte felt the tension in her jaw release, pausing a moment to stare at Pratt, to see if he was joking or not. With the lack of emotion on his face, she deemed he wasn't.

"Protect...me?" He nodded and gently tapped her on her shoulder, urging for her to keep walking. "He wasn't protecting me, he imprisoned me, Pratt." 

"In his eyes, you were a valuable asset, you just needed to be trained right, so, I guess, he thought he was protecting you and in turn, gave her another shot." Charlotte snorted. 

"That's backwards." He laughed in return, shrugging in agreement. The question still hung in the air, and Charlotte heard him take a shaky breath in, groaning as it agitated his ribs.

"He dragged her to the cages, told her if she could hold out against the wolves, she would be a Chosen, and that she had one final chance to prove herself worthy, but not before hacking her hand clean off." Charlotte felt her posture grow rigid but continued to walk. "She fought as well as she could, but it wasn't enough. I'm sorry, Charlotte." She felt herself nod, and left the silence between them amicably. She thought about Pinky, her life stories she was adamant to bring up, her red hair, bright green eyes - the way she would teach her how to do things, the encouragement she would give. Sure, she hadn't known the other woman for a long period of time, and personally found her to be the epitome of obnoxious, but she was the closest thing she had to a friend during her time at this hell-scape, and her death was all Charlotte's fault.

Clenching her fist, she felt the dried blood stick to her palms, remembering the feeling of plunging the piece of plastic into the neck of the guard she saw. She didn't even think, she was only just thinking days ago - or was it months? - of how she didn't want to take another life, and yet, when it came down to it, she did it without any remorse. That's what scares her, the fact she did the act and didn't care. 

"St Francis really does change you, doesn't it?" Pratt nodded, and there was nothing else left to say.

* * *

The duo continued their journey aimlessly through the night, ignoring the chill on their bones before they had found the Resistance, or in actuality, the Resistance found them. The sun had begun to probe above the horizon, and the glint of metal through the underbrush caught Charlotte's eye, causing her to drop Pratt and her baseball bat unceremoniously to the ground as she immediately held her arms up in surrender. Pratt yelped as he landed, groaning as he rolled over on the ground, Charlotte gave him an apologetic look before looking at the barrel of the gun as it elongated, a body soon joining the rest of it out of the shrubbery. 

Rook stepped forward, his appearance a vast improvement since she had last seen him, his caramel gaze warmed as he took in both Charlotte and Staci before lowering his rifle and rushing forward to Pratt. He gripped the other man's shoulder with a smile, shaking him slightly almost as if he was checking to see if he was actually there.

"...Stace?" Charlotte blinked, arms still raised, she never really associated Pratt with his first name, which made her feel like she had been a bit cold to the guy. Staci groaned once again before gripping Rook's forearm and letting Rook help him back to his feet. The Deputy automatically looped his arm over his shoulders to help him walk, the motion only reminding Charlotte of the pain she had in her own shoulders from doing the same thing. Rook turned them both to face her, giving her a wide smile and a nod.

"Cookie, how's it goin'?" Lowering her arms, she shrugged as nonchalantly as she could manage before she felt a small smile spread over her lips.

"I feel like I've escaped from a psychopath once again, and carried your friend on basically my back for hours - it's a lot more heavier than he looks, Rook." He nodded, still smiling and looked over her shoulder, giving something, or someone a thumbs up. Charlotte turned to see a girl around her own age, with a bow primed directly at her head and felt a chill run down her spine. The girl scowled further, the scar on her face giving her a much meaner face than what she was probably intending. 

The girl stalked forward as she tucked her bow over her shoulder, brushing past Charlotte like she was nothing. 

"Better get 'em back to check their wounds, Rook. Then, we will see how much that asshole has weaseled in." Was all she said as she walked into the underbrush, with no sign of stopping. Rook sighed and tilted his head to Charlotte, beckoning her to follow. Picking up her bat, they walked quietly through to forest, and the pain in her feet was only just starting to register as the ground and temperature around them began to rise. 

It was a strange silence they fell into, although it was a happy reunion between Staci and Rook, Charlotte felt out of place as she padded behind the trio through the underbrush. Charlotte fell into a daydream as they walked, songs she hadn't heard in so long returning as a distant memory, or a soundtrack to their journey. She didn't notice she had began humming until the girl they all had been following turned around to address her.

"Fleetwood Mac, huh?" Charlotte nodded, blinking away her daze as the girl's eyes trained on her. They fell in step behind Rook and Staci, the girl's hand stuffed into her pocket as she kept a close eye on their surroundings.

"My parents loved them. Dreams, was it?" 

"Dreams is one of my favourites - my sister used to blast it on repeat to annoy me as a kid, I used to hate it but it grew on me..." Charlotte muttered while the other girl smirked as they walked. She found herself opening up to the girl as they began to discuss music, they both seemed to have a similar taste. She noted how animated the other woman got when it came to different genres, even though she was trying to hide her own excitement at an attempt to be nonchalant. Perhaps it was just nice to have someone around her own age to talk to, but the other girl reminded Charlotte of her own friends, who she felt were in a far away planet compared to Hope County. 

Her friends. Her parents, her brother and sister - how are they? Did they care she had just disappeared off the face of the planet into the void of Hope County? She wanted to believe that they did, but in hindsight, Charlotte felt like she was never really _there_ for them. Sure, physically, she was present, but her mind often wandered off. They would laugh at her, call her a ditz, but she wondered if her vacancy did hurt them. _Perhaps it's a bit too late for that now, Charlotte..._

"Jess." Returning back to reality, she almost didn't hear the clipped tone from the other girl next to her, who was staring at her with a small smile, arm extended forward for a handshake. Charlotte returned the smile and shook her hand, noting the callouses over Jess's hands.

"Charlotte -- or Cookie, I guess, nice to meet you, Jess." Said woman nodded to her and walked towards a dip in a cliff face that Charlotte hadn't even picked up on that they had arrived to, her mind having been caught up in her imagination as she watched Jess begin to descend down a ladder, one she wouldn't have seen initially if Jess hadn't walked down it herself first. She stumbled behind her to catch up, noting that Staci and Rook must have already descended into the bunker while she daydreamed. The cold of the railings under her feet was somewhat refreshing as she descended behind Jess, and the other woman was waiting for her at the bottom, arms crossed before waving her down the corridor to follow her. 

Many people walked around them as they walked, all in their own camouflage, nodding or waving as they passed, which made Charlotte feel uneasy. She wasn't used to this kind of well, kindness, in such a large dose, that she almost felt paranoia rise up in her gut, making her panic. Gripping her bat within her palm, she swung it lightly, trying to keep herself at ease, and not let the anxiety overcome her. Jess led her through another doorway, one that looked more like a bedroom than anything, squatting low to collect some clothes - a pair of ripped jeans, a band t-shirt (one she didn't quite recognize) and a camo bomber jacket - before standing up again and handing them to Charlotte. 

"Shower's to the right, you look like you could use one. I'll get you some shoes when you're done, but we need to clean them up first." Without another word, Jess dipped out of the door leaving Charlotte on her own. 

* * *

After her shower, she allowed another woman she didn't recognise to check her feet, pulling out small bits of rock she didn't even realise was stuck in her feet until the woman got them out. Wincing as disinfectant hit her skin, the woman looked up at her, giving her a scrutinizing look before beginning to bandage her feet. 

"Thank you..." Charlotte muttered when the woman was done, who just nodded and walked away. Jess had left clean socks and boots by the bed for her, so tentatively, Charlotte slipped her feet in and tied the laces. The shoes were a bit big on her, but she would manage - any protection is good protection. Combing her fingers through her still wet hair, she noted the split ends, and how much her hair had grown in the span of her time in Hope County. It reached her midback, the blonde appearing to be dull due to all of her time spent inside. She frowned slightly as she caught her reflection in a nearby mirror - pale, gaunt blue eyes stared back at her and she had to wonder if it was even her she was looking at.

A cough brought her out of her musings as she turned to the doorway, Rook leaning against the door frame, eyes warm and bright, enveloping her like a hug. 

"Doin' alright, Cookie?" She nodded as she began to pull her hair up in a makeshift bun on the crown of her head once again, her signature hairstyle. Rook walked forward, his gait cocky as he perched on the bed next to her. 

"Here's the plan, girlie - we've got a planned convoy heading from here, through Holland Valley and then stopping in the Henbane, just a supply run." He shrugged, as if the whole idea wasn't a big deal. Charlotte raised her eyebrow, not expecting to be automatically privy to such information.

"I want to get you out of Hope County, so, if we get you to the Henbane, I got someone who could _potentially_ help you out of this god forsaken place, ya hear?" She nodded slowly once again, the idea that she could _leave_ was giving her mixed emotions. She wanted to leave, yes, but she also didn't want to leave people behind. As if he could see the turmoil behind her eyes, he placed both of his hands on her shoulders, giving her a reassuring smile.

"This ain't your fight, doll - and the more people we get out of here, the more we can potentially get outside help." Charlotte wanted to argue, but knew it wasn't really an option at this stage. She wasn't valuable enough here, but if she could find a way for the authorities outside of Hope County to intervene, perhaps she could be a catalyst to save them. With a pat on the shoulder, he stood up and Charlotte followed, not before spotting a bag stuffed behind the mirror - a make up bag. She forgot what it was like to even wear make up. Rook turned and followed her line of sight before smiling. 

"I'm sure Jess wouldn't mind if you got dolled up for the outside world, darlin' - think of it as a disguise too. We got time, so...take it." She walked to the make up bag and inspected it, pulling out liquid eyeliner and mascara. Perhaps Jess used them more for camouflage, but Charlotte just wanted to remember who she was, to at least have a memory to cling to. Popping the cap of the eyeliner, she began to wing the top lid of her eyes, the motion (although rusty) was still like riding a bike. Swipe by swipe, she was remembering who she was before Hope County, before Jacob or John or the Resistance. 

She was a young woman, who loved Fleetwood Mac, who loved eyeliner and mascara, loved food, hated the colour peach, and was innocent to the world. She felt herself cringe, innocent no longer. After applying the mascara, she stared at her reflection, feeling as though she had just put make up on a pig. The black make up accentuated the blue of her eyes, but she felt like it made her look terrible, made her feel like she was living a lie. She wanted to see who she was, but she only was seeing what she lost. 

Jess came through the doorway and gave her a low whistle and a thumbs up and Charlotte blushed, putting down the make up in the bag she found. Jess motioned for her to follow through the corridor as they made their way back to a different ladder, that led towards a row of trucks lined up in a row. Jess turned to her and patted Charlotte's shoulder, pushing her towards the back of one of the trucks lightly. 

"God speed." Charlotte gave her a salute back as she climbed in, leaning her bat on the opposite seat, waiting for the thrum of the truck to begin. Jess stood towards the entrance of the bunker, watching as Charlotte descended down the hill, until Charlotte couldn't see her anymore. The truck was blaring chatter, and she tried to tune out to it as she relaxed, feeling the wind drift over her face from the open canopy of the truck she was in. She looked at the head of the driver as he leaned against the headrest of the open truck, bored. She noted the supply of ammunition littered and piled around her in the back of the truck as it rocked back and forth. 

Hours passed as she watched as the forest of the Whitetails began to thin, and the Valley begin to stretch in her periphery, the yellow of the hay a stark difference to the deep green she had grown accustomed to. She continued to hum as she took a deep breath, the feeling of freedom, or almost freedom, sitting on the tip of her tongue, she couldn't wait to just swallow and it'll be all over--

" _Only you can make all this world seem right"_ As if a switch had been triggered, Charlotte felt the freedom she had dissipate, and her body seize to attention.

" _Only you can make the darkness bright"_ She turned to the driver, who was fiddling with the radio as they drove, muttering as to why the station had changed. Red began to creep into her vision like a cancer, a parasite, and nothing but tumultuous rage began to fill her core.

_"Only you and you alone can thrill me like you do."_ Her vision turned blood red as she gripped her bat in her palms.

_"And fill my heart with love for only you"._ And everything went black.


	11. Bathwater

With a subconscious tug of her wrists, she didn't need to open her eyes to know that she was strapped to a metal chair. Feeling its cool, sharp edges digging into her as she lay limp, Charlotte refused to open her eyes, as if her lids were protecting her from the light that would agitate the headache that was booming in her head already. 

Rolling her head side to side, she felt her bones click and groaned at the sharp pains she felt as she slowly began to wake, the pain only seemingly worse from her restraints. Finally daring to take a peek at her surroundings, she craned open one eye warily, only to stare directly into the blue eyes of John Seed, who sat only across from her a few feet away. He sat on a metal chair backwards, identical to her own, his elbow resting on the back of the chair, his chin on his palm, while his other hand trained a deep rhythm into his thigh, as if he were anxious, or excited.

As soon as both of her eyes opened, his face lit up like she were presenting him with candy, a childlike look of excitement overtook him. He stood up suddenly, walking over to where she was sitting and looming in her space like he owned it. Crouching slightly, he gripped her face ( _just like Jacob does--)_ \- a twinge of anger quirked within her as thought of the red head, and she fought the need to snarl while John closely examined her face from left to right, grinning like a mad man. After a few moments of scrutiny, he patted her cheeks with his fingers and leaned in close, his smile full of fangs that glinted under the florescent light of the room.

"Welcome home, Charlotte." He released her face and stepped away, arms extended as he twirled, his coat swaying with him - he could have been a dancer with the grace he somehow possessed. 

"I just _knew_ you would come back to me, Charlotte - it is His will." Charlotte coughed, staring at John in confusion.

"Who?" John blinked back at her, his smile faltering slightly and his arms dropping to his side. He stalked forward into her space once again, so close that she had to crane her neck upwards to look at him. 

"What do you mean, _who?_ " He stared down at her, his smile morphing into something quite sardonic. 

"Who's will? Joseph's? God's? Yours?" As if his smile could get any sharper, he swiped, gripping her chin tightly once again as he craned his own face close to hers, the mint of his breath tickling her mouth as his eyes delved deep into her own, searching. 

"Does it matter?" His tone was clipped, forceful, as if daring her to say anything else less than subservient. She swallowed, choosing that now was not perhaps the right time to talk back to the younger Seed brother. He let go of her face and walked towards the metal chair, bringing it up from off the floor and returning to his seated position, legs crossed at the ankles and his hands tucked within each other, as if he didn't have a care in the world. 

"Now, _Charlotte..._ " His voice dipped lower into a southern drawl - _what the fuck is with that accent?_ \- "I don't know what your little arrangement was with my _dear old brother_ , but you're back home now, and I want you to return to your posting--"

"As your cook? Laundry lady? Seriously?" She blurted out before she could think. John clenched his hands in his lap, as if exercising restraint. She watched his body language, and realised that the air of confidence he was projecting was false, the smile he had on his face was well-versed, there was something off about John and she couldn't exactly pinpoint what. 

"Yes, yes - why keep you away from things that you are just so _good at_." He tilted his head, sardonic smile crisp on his face before clapping, ending the conversation with finality. Standing abruptly, he walked towards a leather bag that was tucked within the corner of the room, a bag she hadn't noticed until he started walking towards it, and watched as he rummaged through it. She watched the way the muscles in his back moved under his shirt, that _goddamn blue shirt_ , before he turned around, scalpel in hand and smile etched into a cold grin. 

"Now, Charlotte, let's have a chat - shall we?" Seeing the blade glint, she automatically went into fight or flight mode, moving frantically around her restraints, tugging and pulling at the rope that bound her, fear fueling her adrenaline. He stalked forward, shushing her as he took her chin into his palm once again, keeping the scalpel close to her face, only an inch away from her mouth. He swiped a now leather-clad thumb over her lip, placing the scalpel in the corner of her mouth, making her freeze at the motion. 

"See, if you keep moving like that darling, you're going to slice your own face open - and I think we both don't want that, so how about you calm down while we go through our little confessional, shall we?" She slowly nodded, careful of the scalpel digging into the corner of her mouth before he withdrew it, patting her cheek almost affectionately before he turned to drag forward his chair to sit directly in front of her, kneecaps coming to a close only inches away from hers. All Charlotte could feel in the moment was the thumping of her heart, the swell of her lungs as she heaved in air, the tight grip of her bindings as John sat across from her, languidly twirling the scalpel between his two index fingers. 

"Now, Charlotte, where shall we start? Hmm?" She could only stare at him and he sighed, leaning forward and dragging the scalpel over her right jean-clad thigh, splitting the fabric and revealing her skin underneath, goosebumps forming at the feeling of the cool air from the room. She let out a shriek, leaning back from him as if she could get him out of his space and he let out a cruel laugh. 

"I know where we should start..." Gripping her thigh, he ripped the hole in the jean open with force, leaving the once tough fabric open as a gaping hole. Running a leather clad hand over the revealed expanse of skin, he looked back up at her, cold eyes drinking in her own. "Did you like St Francis, Charlotte?" 

She blinked, before slowly shaking her head, her body beginning to tremble under his scrutiny. He hummed, spinning the scalpel around in one hand with practiced precision before tapping the gap in her jeans with the blunt back of it, making her jump slightly. The only way she could get through with this was to be honest this time, to play his game.

"So, was Jacob...not hospitable? Not like me, of course...?" She shook her head, watching the cruel smile on his face turn slightly genuine. 

"So...you lied to me?" She froze, realising how quickly he had trapped her into a corner. She felt herself nod slowly and John nodded with her, almost mockingly. "At least you're honest, darling." Quicker than she would have thought possible, John spun the scalpel around in his fingers deftly, and began to carve into her leg as slow as he could. She let out a high-shriek, one that she hadn't heard in a very long time as she began to toss and turn, but there was only so much room she could utilise with her lack of space. The blood began to pool down her leg, soaking into the jeans that Jess had gifted her only the day before. John worked in silence, only her screeching resonating throughout the room, and in what felt like forever, he sat back with a smile, admiring his handiwork on her bloodied thigh. 

Charlotte looked down through teary eyes, the word 'liar' stared upwards at her, grisly and crude. She could only stare as John's voice floated, lifted into her mind as if he didn't carve something into another person. 

"Now, deception is _not_ welcome in Eden, Charlotte, but this is a great start." He tapped her left leg as if to reassure her, like she was doing a good job before he tore another hole into the opposite leg, the sound of the fabric tearing and her sobs echoing against the concrete of the room. Wiping the scalpel on her jeans, he pressed it into the skin of her left thigh, looking up to address her once again. 

"Did you help both Deputies escape St Francis?" Charlotte felt her face curl into a sob, tears finally allowing themselves to fall down her cheeks and onto her chest as she heaved - the cuts he had made for his scarification on her right leg were deep, and she could only nod to him, tensing as she awaited the next cut. He tutted, shaking his head almost disapprovingly before he delved into her left leg, the carvings he was making just as deep, if not deeper, than the original ones. She screamed once again as he worked, blood pooling now as splatters on the floor between her restrained legs. 

Sacrilege stared back at her, unwavering in its depth. John sat back, resting the scalpel on his own jeans as he regarded her with his shit-eating grin. 

"You're probably wondering, why sacrilege? Well, Charlotte, you were to be a Chosen, and you misplaced that trust. You've already got liar, so lets match it up shall we?" He crossed his arms and tucked his chin into his hand, scrutinizing her as he looked for another spot to carve before there was a knock on the door, tentative - she wouldn't have noticed it over the sound of her heavy breathing if it was not for the way John tensed up and looked over his shoulder towards the door. A face she did not recognise peeped through, a man of short stature, ignoring her and looking directly at John who had a brow raised expectantly at him. 

"It's the Dep, sir." He sighed, almost comically, before he stood up and began to tug the leather gloves off of his fingers, tucking them into his jacket pocket as he stalked towards his leather bag, shoving the scalpel into it as he walked out of the room in a haste, not before turning to the man with a threatening point. "Take her upstairs, bliss her - I don't care, give her bath, we will continue this later."

The man stepped aside as John walked passed before walking in, syringe withdrawn from his pocket, Charlotte could only watch in horror as he stalked forward and felt the pinch of the needle in her throat.

* * *

She woke to find herself in a marble bathtub, the hot water around her hugged her like a warm pillow, she never wanted to leave. 

Every glint of light in the room was like a sparkle, it was like she was surrounded by glitter as she gazed in wonder, she wondered if she was in Heaven, the feeling of absolute freedom and happiness having been but a distant memory the last few months. She relaxed further into the bath tub, curling her fingers and toes and relishing the absolute feeling of relief - she couldn't describe this feeling she had, she couldn't even remember how she got here. 

The smell of lavender was heavy throughout the steam as she giggled, the bubbles of the soap tickling her chin as she lowered herself deeper. She felt like a child on Christmas, everything was _wonderful_. 

"Enjoying yourself, are we?" She looked up to see John, walking into the ensuite, his eyes bluer than the sky, his voice crooning directly into her loins. She couldn't help the dreamy smile that parted her lips as she nodded to him, unaffected by her own nudity. He unbuttoned his dress shirt at the wrists and rolled them up to his elbows as he took a seat on the edge of the tub by her head, running his hand through her hair as she stared up at him. She was just so fucking _happy_ , nothing could ruin this moment. 

"Now, after all of this--" he waived a hand to the general direction of her legs, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from him, choosing to absorb as much of his voice into her being as she could. "You give me a smile like that? All it took was a bath to get you to look at me like that?" She couldn't help the giggle erupt from her throat as she picked up a fist full of bubbles and blew them at him playfully. He continued to run his hand through her wet hair, but even under the heated stare and happiness she felt, her inner being felt tense, something felt like it was going to explode within her - she felt like it was fear, but she didn't care. 

"You've done so well for me, Charlotte..." He muttered, parting her hair behind her ears before gripping the back of her neck and forcing her into a seated position, the water sloshing around her like a vortex. She was just so happy, so free, she didn't care. _youshouldfuckingcarewhyareyouactinglikethis--_

He smiled down at her serenely, the grip on the back of her neck feeling more comforting than anything as his gaze never left her face.

"Despite all that you have done, you are not beyond salvation. You’re not here by accident or by chance. You are here by the grace of God. You’ve been given a gift. Now it remains to be seen whether you choose to embrace it...or cast it aside--" Without hesitation, Charlotte felt him grip her neck harshly and plunged her forward into the water, the bubbles around her glinting in the light and sparkling as he held her under. Her lungs began to strain, but the smile on her face wouldn't budge. If she died here, she would be happy. 

As she opened her eyes under the water, she felt herself fall deeper into that heavenly feeling of relief, even as her body began to fight. She saw green, she loved green - green was her favourite colour - before it went black.

* * *


	12. Brunch

When she awoke, Charlotte felt as though her head had been swirled in the toilet of life. It was perhaps too early for such philosophy, but it was the only way to describe how her brain currently felt.

Every slight movement, regardless of the weight of the blankets over her, the duck feather pillows and the mattress that felt like pure, unadulterated heaven, it did not help the pain that shot through her joints like lightning. She noted the cotton feeling in her mouth, her nostrils, hell -- even under her eyelids, as if she was stuffed like a teddy bear, full to the brim of cotton wool. From this deduction, the oddities, the pain, the feelings she felt, she knew for certain that for the last few hours - not that she could remember - she must have been high as fuck.

Blinking wearily, she noted the sunlight peppering on the rafters of the roof, looking as if she had slept until well midmorning, at least - potentially the longest, undisturbed sleep she had for awhile. Stretching out the pain in her joints and curling her toes under the blankets, she noted the deep blue sheets - light, and airy to accommodate the Montana summer, and remembered exactly where she was. Seed Ranch.

With a groan, she sat up, running a languid hand through her hair and she noted the white dress shirt she was currently dressed in - and no pants. With a wary hand, she slid her hand down her thighs and -- no underwear. Feeling her face flush with embarrassment, she wrapped the blanket around her lower half as she stood up from the bed, stumbling slightly in dizziness, hand gripping the headboard of the bed as she huffed, breathing in deeply in hopes to wash away the sudden influx of vertigo she felt.

"Oh! Welcome home!" Charlotte looked up to the doorway and a red haired woman stared back at her, grinning as widely as ever - Holly Pepper.

"You...You're here?" Charlotte muttered, feeling slightly incredulous as the other woman was the whole reason Charlotte had been shipped off to the Whitetails. As though she had said the most _wonderful joke_ , Holly laughed, waving her off before tucking her hands into the pockets of her blue dress.

"I went to the Henbane for awhile, before John _insisted_ _that I come back_." She winked, shifting her hips to and from in what Charlotte would describe as a happy dance. "Where did you go?"

"...the Whitetails." Charlotte tightened the blanket around her, into a burrito of protection, feeling odd to be having the conversation with Holly, especially after all she had been through for the last couple of weeks - or was it months, she wasn't even sure anymore. Holly clapped her hands together and smiled, seemingly overjoyed with Charlotte's answer.

"That would have been _so_ interesting, Faith was nice, but I like it here more! How was Jacob?" She leaned against the doorway, folding her slim arms in front of her chest waiting for Charlotte to answer. Nervous, the shorter woman sat back down on the bed, tightening the blanket in her fist further, even though the heat was beginning to get to her as the day grew hotter during the morning.

"He was...I mean, I didn't have much to do with him, to be honest." Charlotte muttered, choosing to look to the floor as opposed to Holly who pouted, obviously not getting the answer she wanted.

" _Boo_ , I never get to see the guy, so any gossip would have been nice. Oh! By the way, John asked me to give you some clothes, so, get dressed and get in the kitchen when you're done, 'kay?" It was as if it were once again, Groundhog day, as Charlotte watched Holly close the door, the sway of her blue pinafore dress, the bounce of her ruby hair, the happiness she radiated, disappear. She waited for her steps to dissipate down the hallway before she dove to the box and tipping it unceremoniously onto the floor, scattering the contents to see what she had, what she could potentially _use to escape_ \--

_No. Look what happened to Pinky, Charlie._

She sat cross-legged, and frowned, her body growing numb once again. _How many people are you going to kill this time?_

With a deep breath, she sighed, closing her eyes and clutching her head, focusing on her breathing, focusing on getting rid of the panic that swelled in her veins. It took her a few moments to get under control, and it wasn't until there was another knock at the door that she scrambled upwards, wrapping the blanket around her lower half and stumbling to the door to stop whoever was on the other side from getting in.

"Now, now, late on your first day back, Miss Dunn? I expected more..." John's voice wafted from behind the door, sending chills down her spine as she gripped the door handle. Pulling it slightly ajar, she looked up at him, his eyes piercing hers with such a charismatic intensity that she let out a shuddering breath. If he caught her hesitation, he didn't mention it as he grinned, leaning closer to the open door with one arm propped up on the doorframe. He wiggled his fingers, as if saying hi, and she couldn't stop the frown that etched into her face.

"Did Holly tell you to come downstairs when you're dressed?" He spoke with a smirk, as if taking pleasure in her apprehension. Not knowing what to say, not trusting her own voice, she nodded slowly, careful of her actions. He hummed, happy with her answer and apparent servitude, before he stood back from the door, still smiling at her.

"See you soon then, _Charlotte_ \- oh and you could come down wearing nothing but my dress shirt, I must say, you look better in it than I do..." She caught his laugh as she slammed the door shut and ripped off his shirt quicker than ever, the buttons popping off and tapping on the floor like hail. First, she spotted some plain white underwear and as she squatted down to pick them up, her forearms brushed against her thighs, her skin beginning to sing with pain. Rearing back, she finally noticed the scars on her thighs, ghastly and crude, standing stark against her pale thighs like the prison yard tattoos that they were. She felt her blood boil, but pushed the feeling down before she could react. _I don't want someone else to die today because I can't control myself._

Sighing, she picked up the underwear left on the floor and slid them on, followed by a bra. She spotted a dark blue dress shirt once again - she assumed that it was John's once again due to the size - and then she spotted the shorts. Denim shorts. Basically high-cut Daisy Dukes. _What the fuck?_

Slipping on the shorts and tucking in the shirt as much as she could, she looked ridiculous, with her scars on display like that, and the shirt swamping her - John obviously wanted to place ownership on her, and embarrass her at the same time. Combing her hair in a nearby mirror with her fingers (-- _smash it Charlie and stab the fucking bastards--_ ) she slid on her shoes, that were slightly too big, and grimaced as she caught the sight of a small spotting of blood in the corner of the white leather slip ons.

With a deep breath, a habit she seems to be forming, she opened her door, and walked (stumbled was more accurate) to the kitchen as if on auto-pilot, the layout of Seed Ranch having not changed in the slightest as she moved through the corridors, trailing her fingers along the wooden paneling and trying to ignore the sting of her wounds along her thighs. Walking into the kitchen, she was rewarded with a low whistle as John sat at the counter, regarding her over a newspaper.

She stopped in her tracks, unsure on how to proceed now that she had made it to the kitchen as he took a sip of coffee, his eyes drifting over her body in analysis before returning back to hers - piercing, the Seed family trait. Folding the newspaper down, he took another gulp of coffee, finishing it with an obnoxious 'ah' before placing it down, linking his fingers together on his lap as he laid back further into the metal stool in front of the counter. The silence stretched between them as they stared at one another, each watching what the other would do, but it did not last very long, the tension having made Charlotte's nerves shot and impatient.

"You...wanted to see me?" She murmured, cringing at how raspy and timid she sounded. Without warning, John clapped his hands together, the noise sending a shockwave through Charlotte's brain, making her eye twitch to control the pain that swept there. He stood up and stalked towards her, then behind her, clapping his bejewelled hands on her shoulders and leading her towards the stove, behind the counter. 

"Brunch! We have guests arriving shortly." 

"You want me to cook? For you?" He rolled his eyes and nodded before his hands dropped from her shoulders and he walked back to his bar stool.

"Yes darling, I haven't had good food in so long and you're the best option right now, so if you could please make a meal fit for a King, that would be wonderful." She snorted as he said king, his gaze turning icy for only a split second before returned back to his _optimistic_ self. Tentatively, she walked to the fridge, feeling the pain in her joints and only realising how tired she was as she tried to open it. She grabbed a few options, easy and simple, making her way back to the breakfast counter to start prepping, feeling a sense of déjà vu as he watched how she worked, never once gazing away, as if suspicious she would poison him, or do something stupid-- she would, of course, but she can't risk this again.

The Seed family had already turned her into a murderer, it was going to be all down hill from there, but she could at least control her fall from grace as much as she could.

The silence stretched, only the sound of her working throughout the kitchen could be heard and the thrum of John's fingers as he tapped the marble of the breakfast counter, watching her throroughly. The more time went on, the more she noticed the intensity of the tapping, as if he was excited, it was the small things about John she learned that he could not hide and it only made her more anxious. 

"Aren't you wondering who we are having for brunch, my little chef?" Charlotte paused in mid-toast butter and looked up at him, shaking her head slowly once again, choosing to keep giving him the bare minimum of conversation. He grinned, his fingers stopping their steady thrum on the counter. "Guess you'll have to see for yourself." 

She couldn't stop the deadpanned expression across her face which earned her a laugh from the man, as he tapped his now empty mug of coffee twice before pushing it towards her slowly. She turned to get the coffee pot as heavy steps descended down the hallway and she caught wind of the shuffle of fabric from John as he stood. 

" _Brother!_ " She froze with the coffee pot in her hand, unable to turn around, her whole being turning to stone. John didn't get a reply, so she wasn't sure as to which brother it actually was, so turning slowly with a deep breath, she trained her eyes to the empty coffee cup that John had left, trying to use her peripheral vision to see who it was-- _oh **fuck**_ **.**

"Charlotte! You've been reunited!" She forced herself to look up to Jacob and she stared, and he returned her gaze back, their eyes locking in a war that only they were facing. John looked between the two with what Charlotte could describe as an eat-shit grin before he pulled Jacob to a nearby breakfast table. Jacob broke the gaze between him and Charlotte, pulling his arm away from John and stalking to the nearby chair, sitting down at it and staring forward at John as he also settled opposite him.

"Thanks for joining me for brunch, brother! I know how busy you are up in your compound -- Charlotte, bring him some coffee! He must be _exhausted_ from the drive." Filling up John's own mug, she forced herself to move towards the table to place it down in front of John and she stalked towards the kitchen to grab another cup, and returning to the table as quickly as she could muster. She could feel Jacob staring at her, his eyes gazing at her scars, the blue shirt, and probably how fucking exhausted she was. She knew what it looked like as he frowned, she knew she looked like another Cult whore. 

Placing the coffee cup down in front of Jacob, she jumped as he grabbed her wrist while it was still around the handle, his frown still etched in his face. 

"Now, darlin', you look exhausted...why don't you have a sip of that first?" The deep tremor of his voice still had an effect on her as she had to hide the shudder that resonated throughout her stomach. Steeling herself, she shook her head which in turn only made his grip tighter. John laughed at the exchange, taking a sip of coffee from his own mug himself.

"Go on Charlotte, you deserve it after all the...work you've been doing." She stared incredulously at John, then at Jacob before wrenching Jacob's hand from her wrist and bringing the mug up to her lips, sipping the black liquid and holding Jacob's gaze before slamming it back down, the coffee sloshing over the side onto the table. Satisfied, John waved her towards the kitchen to start dishing up the food and she basically sprinted away, Jacob's eyes never leaving her. 

"Don't worry Jacob, I've been keeping her reigned in, she's settling in fine here." Jacob hummed in response. Walking over to the breakfast table, she placed the plates down in front of the men - basic eggs, bacon, toast and she stepped away from the table, waiting to be set free from the exchange all together. John began to eat while Jacob stared point blank at her, unmoving, with hidden emotion, before he motioned for her to sit at the table. 

"Grab a seat, sugar." She looked at John who nodded to the unoccupied chair and she sat between the men, like an iron pitchfork in a cornfield. Jacob picked up a fork and handed it to her, handle first. 

"Take a bite." She shook her head, declining. Not taking no for an answer, he wrenched her hand from under the table and clasped it over the handle, dragging her forward towards his food. "Not goin' to ask again, darlin'." His tone was clipped, as if warning her to try declining again. John watched, humming a happy tune, at the exchange as he continued to eat. Frowning, Charlotte took a piece of every item on Jacob's plate, perhaps a bit too aggressively, and shoving it in her mouth. No matter how good the food tasted, it was all but ash in her mouth as she chewed. 

"Swallow." Jacob murmured, his eyes ablaze and she gulped it down without any further instruction. Satisfied, he took the fork back from her and began to eat. John began to talk about crops, but Charlotte chose the time to zone out and evaluate the entire exchange. She couldn't help but feel some sort of pride, that she invoked fear (albeit small) in Jacob, that he had to question her. He understood that she was capable of many things, many damaging things, and that was the first time that she had been actually been taken seriously whilst in Hope County - hell, it was probably the first time she had been taken seriously in her whole life. 

Hope County had changed her, the Cult had changed her - thoroughly. She had killed, she had made a fucking _bomb_ for fucks sake, but she had also saved people. Charlotte may have felt like Jacob and John had broken her down, but the more they carved into her, in John's case he literally did carve into her, the more she found a resilience she never knew and built herself back up. Being here made her feel like she had value, she wasn't just a ghost in a hallway, she had purpose, she had potential but potential for what exactly?

Potential to destroy or potential to save? She honestly wasn't sure anymore. 

It wasn't until she noticed that John and Jacob were staring at her that she realised they were talking to her. John tilted his head at her confused expression before shooting her a side smile and returning back to Jacob. 

"Who would have thought that this little thing took down that convoy?" 

"What?" She could feel her eyes had grown wide and her mouth had gone agape, she must have looked like a fish. John laughed again and nodded, as if it was as ridiculous as it sounded. 

"How else do you think we got you?" She turned to Jacob, who had finished his plate of food and was staring over her with linked fingers, elbows on the table. She looked between the men, looked desperately for a sign that they were _absolutely fucking with her_ and couldn't find one.

"...how?" John leaned back and shrugged, picking up his coffee mug.

"You tell us! We got there and there was a crashed convoy, I must say _Charlotte_ , what you lack in _finesse, you make up with enthusiasm--_ " She slammed her fist onto the table, the plates clattering and the room grew silent, white hot rage swept through her like a wave and she could feel her jaw clenching together. Breathing deep through her nose, she tried to reel back the anger, knowing that was what he was wanting before she felt his hand sweep up her thigh, the sting of her wounds still fresh. As if he had pulled a trigger, she grabbed Jacob's fork, wrenched John's hand onto the table and brought it down, piercing the back of his hand like a hot knife through butter.

He roared and Jacob stood up, grabbing her by the hair and slamming her down onto the table, the ceramic dish smashing under the force, she could feel a shard digging into her cheek and the could see the red of her blood spill, sullying the stark white colouring of what was once a dish. John ripped the fork out and gripped his hand, and erupted into a fit of laughter as opposed to the rage she had been expecting while Jacob stood behind her, holding her down.

"Oh Charlotte, you are just full of _fucking surprises._ " He crooned before standing, kicking the chair back and stalking out of the room, the door slamming behind him. Silence sat between Jacob and Charlotte as he held her down, her arm gripped behind her back uncomfortably as he restrained her. Slowly, he unwound his hand from her hair and freed her arm before he pulled her up by her wrist and began to lead her out of the kitchen towards a nearby bathroom. Pushing her unceremoniously in, he shut the door behind them and backed her towards the sink, crowding her like he did at St Francis.

Bringing her face into his hands, he inspected it, surprisingly gentle as he pulled the shard from her cheek, flicking it into the sink before turning the faucet on. She could feel herself shaking as she took deep breaths in and out in repetition. Jacob took a nearby towel and began to clean her face and she finally made eye contact with him, frowning. Without returning her gaze, he tutted at her - another Seed trait - before holding the corner of the towel to the cut. 

"You shouldn't antagonise him, cupcake." There was no _fucking way_ she was going to take chastising about antagonisation from _Jacob fucking Seed._

"Or what? Am I gonna lose a hand? Be mutilated? Please, tell me why I shouldn't fucking antagonise--" He gripped her chin, closing her mouth into an unattractive pout as he stared down at her. She must have looked like such a petulant child. Jacob patted the gash on her face gently, more gently than she would have probably deserved from him before putting the towel into the sink under the still running faucet, moving to cup her face with both hands. 

"Still worked up about the girl, huh--" She threw a poor punch to his shoulder and he huffed, pushing her further into the sink until the marble dug into her back almost painfully. 

"Now, you're gonna listen to me very clearly." He crooned low, close to her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks as he angled her face upwards to him while he craned down to meet her in the middle. "This is war, we aren't playing house, we don't pity the weak. She knew the circumstances, she didn't listen, she paid for it, just like how _you will pay for your actions._ " Tucking a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, he hummed and stood back, releasing her from his grip. 

"I--I just want to go home." He nodded, as if in agreement and it somehow made her feel better, like she had been heard for the first time. He turned his back on her and clicked open the door, and walked out of it, leaving her to clean up her mess.


	13. Bite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments, it means the world to me honestly!  
> I've also started a tumblr to get involved with the writing community, would love to interact with you all and discuss whatever is going on! :)  
> (ficfrog.tumblr.com)  
> <3

It had been a few days since she had maimed John Seed in the hand, and it had been days since she had seen Jacob as well. 

She stayed holed up in her room, under the blankets, cocooned in her own despair. The Resistance had trusted her to go with their supply convoy, and it was her own fault that it didn't reach its destination. What made matters worse was the fact she didn't remember a single _fucking thing about it_. She combed over her memories finely, but all she could see were glimpses, millisecond images that she couldn't make heads or tails of, it was as if she had started in the middle of a story and was unable to piece the fragments together.

With a groan, she lifted the covers off over her head, thumping her head back onto the pillow behind her, puffing out a stray piece of hair that had made its way onto her face. Her stomach twisted itself in a knot, curling like a serpent ready to strike as she rolled onto her side, curling into a ball of self-pity as she knew what was on its way. It could be the self-starvation, the dehydration, sleep deprivation, perhaps, but Charlotte had grown to know those pains, and they were nothing compared to the menstrual cramps that pre-empted her period like an omen.

Staring towards her curtained window from her blanket burrito, Charlotte stared at the blue fabric, pressed and dense to hide the light from the outside world, and recanted on the last few days of her own self-solitary confinement. Still in John's blue shirt minus the shorts, she was surprised that said man hadn't appeared as of yet, especially in lieu of her tantrum. She had expected him to appear, scalpel in hand, bible in the other, ready to dish out her punishment, but oddly, she had been left to her own devices for a majority of the time. As foreboding as her menstrual cycle, this did not feel good, like the quiet before the storm. 

Closing her eyes, Charlotte breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, ready to succumb back into her dreamless void, wanting to think of anyone, anything else, not relating to the Seed family. She wondered about Karla, her sister, and how she was doing at her teaching job in California, and she wondered about her little brother Dylan, how he was doing in College. She tried to remember what Karla taught for the school she worked at, but the subject seemed to evade her, and the same applied for Dylan. Charlotte hadn't realised until now that as her time had progressed in Hope County, it had become her life. The small, minute details that she should remember about her outside life were disappearing quickly, and she started second-guessing her own memories, as if she had no life outside of the Cult.

She no longer felt like Charlotte May Dunn, she felt like no one at all. 

Perhaps that was a good thing - Charlotte May Dunn was a nobody in the outside world, and she used to think she perhaps enjoyed that, ghosting in and out of the lives of others, doing her own thing without the responsibility of another but within the confines of Hope County, she began to feel like someone else, _something else_. In her dreamscape, she felt herself emerge from within a cocoon, and felt the length of her spine, picturing the feeling of soft feathered wings. Within Hope County, she could rebuild herself into something stronger, something with purpose, something pristine. She could become the person she was meant to be. 

She could be important to someone.

The curtains were wrenched open before she could have time to adjust to the light that preened through her eyelids and she groaned, laying a palm over her eyes and rolling over to shield herself from the offending light. She hadn't even had heard anyone come in. 

"Up and at 'em, Charlotte! Sulking time is over!" Holly sat on the edge of her bed and ripped the blankets back from Charlotte, who groaned once again, pulling John's shirt down to cover herself or to at least save some dignity for herself. Holly sighed, grimacing at the sour smell that came from Charlotte, having spent more than enough time in bed, even for her own liking. 

"You need a shower, girl. Come on, we have to get to the service!" Charlotte removed her hand from her face and stared at Holly, confused. 

"...Service?" The red head nodded, pulling Charlotte without warning by her ankles off the bed. Kicking slightly, Charlotte flicked Holly's grip off of her legs and frowned, rubbing her ankles and raising her eyebrow in hopes Holly would understand that an explanation was needed. Holly sighed, standing up from her perched position on Charlotte's bed and frowning back at her, hands on hips. 

"Yes, John invited you to his service and he said that I was to be there too, this is the first time I've ever been invited, Charlotte!" The blonde sat up and looked blankly at Holly, feeling her face contort further into a skeptic look. John must not have told her about the altercation they had in the kitchen, because he wouldn't just _invite her_ to attend his service, with his mistress, after she stabbed him in the hand with a fork in front of his brother. There was a ulterior motive here, and as Holly rushed her into the bathroom, she raked her brain with scenarios, trying to stay one foot ahead of the Baptist. 

_He's going to execute me in front of an audience. Or, he's going to mutilate me again. Maybe he is going to shame me, okay, so, if he's gonna do anything, I need to have an exit strategy. Obviously, Holly will not be on board to help me in the slightest, so I'm on my own for this one. I don't even know where the fucking church is, I barely even know Hope County, I am so fucking fucked--_

"Hurry up, Charlotte, we're going to be late!" Holly banged on the door, making Charlotte jump mid-rinse of her body. She washed and dried herself in record time and walked out of the bathroom, feeling refreshed yet not relaxed. In the time she had taken to have a shower, Holly had dressed herself in blue, in a form fitting sweetheart dress. Her hair had been pinned meticulously to her head, looking like she had come straight out of a rockabilly 50's magazine, where all Charlotte had was John's blue shirt, blood stained white loafers and very improper short shorts, not exactly her Sunday best.

Holly took in Charlotte's towel and hair and tutted, pulling her forward and sitting her down on the bed, combing her fingers through Charlotte's locks like a mother would a child before pulling out a white box, unlabelled and settling it next to Charlotte's hip as she combed her hair. 

"I'm not sure what we are going to do with this mess, but John bought us both dresses for the service, it must be a special occasion! I am so _excited_." She squealed, the grip in Charlotte's hair tightening with her excitement, making her eyes water. Charlotte turned to the box and shooed Holly out of the door to get ready. She stared at the box and frowned, expecting for it to blow up in her face the moment she touched it. Knowing that this was probably not the surprise she was going to receive, she mustered her courage and stalked forward, ripping away the lid and tissue paper and pulling the fabric out in front of her, holding it like it were a landmine ready to go off in her face. 

She blinked, taking the dress in - she wasn't sure of what to make of it. Light blue and satin in texture, the princess cut dress came to her knee, covering her scars from John whilst also accentuating her figure. It was sleeveless, perhaps for the best as the heatwave rolled in, so her original tattoo across her forearm would stand out, but the whole outfit was sweet. Her frowned deepened. It was sweet, she was a doll, she were to be a doll for the service - _that's his end game. He needs pretty girls to fill in the seats._ She sighed and slipped the dress on, noting the white matching heels that were in the box with it and called Holly in, who smiled, pins in her hands to fix the mess that was Charlotte's hair. 

Eventually, a guard had arrived to pick them up, advising them that they were expected to be seated by 9.30am, to which Charlotte gawked. _What time did Holly wake up for this?_

Climbing into the van, the drive to the church was a quiet one as Charlotte tried to pick at the bun that was pinned to her head, earning a disapproving glare from Holly who slapped her hand away every time it inched closer to scratch. Charlotte felt like a Stepford Wife as Holly picked at her face, applying lip gloss here, perfume there, it all felt unreal. One moment she was content in being the woman she wanted to be in Hope County, only for the Seed family to flip that idea upside down and make her be someone else. As soon as she felt like she had a stance on who she was, they disrupted that, and at least that was the one thing Charlotte knew she hated more than anything else. 

She was not Charlotte May Dunn, she was not Charlotte the Chef, nor was she Charlotte the Dutiful or whatever act John wanted her to portray this morning, she was just Charlotte. _Jacob wouldn't make you dress up like this--_ Holly stared confused as Charlotte rubbed her temples aggressively, attempting to push the thought out of her head before it could make her nerves more frayed than they already were.

Soon they had arrived to the church, and Charlotte watched as Holly pressed herself to the window of the van, marveling at it like it were a gift from God itself. It was strange to think that because of the nature of Holly and John's relationship, that she had never stepped foot in one of his services, let alone be invited to one, so she watched as Holly babbled excitedly in childlike wonder. She turned around abruptly from her perch on the window as they drove down the driveway and gripped Charlotte's hands into her own, leaning forward as if she were sharing a secret. 

"Do you think he's gonna...announce something?" Charlotte stared forward into Holly's eyes, dumbfounded. 

"Like...what Jesus is gonna...do?" Holly rolled her eyes and gripped Charlotte's hands tighter.

"No, do you think he's gonna say something...about us?" _Oh._ Charlotte shrugged, pulling her hands away from Holly, absentmindedly wiping her hands down the sides of her dress. She was already going crazy, she didn't need to get any more of it from Holly if it were contagious. Holly clapped as the van came to a stop, the grin splitting her face in two and basically leapt from the van as soon as the driver pulled the door open. Charlotte hesitantly stepped out, stumbling on her kitten heels, the gravel crunching under her feet as she looked around and observed the congregants. Most were dressed in their own Eden's Gate uniform, some were in suits, others were in rags, it was a whole mixture of those who had come together to hear John speak. 

Feeling out of place, Charlotte wrapped her arms around her waist and stood on her tip-toes, looking for her red headed companion, eventually spotting her attempting to loop her arm with John as he spoke to his congregants that approached, his smile on the outside genuine, but Charlotte could see something dark brewing under his cold stare. She watched him place his bandaged hand on Holly's lower back, leading her to the church as she walked with him, an undoubtedly happy spring in her step. While he was distracted, perhaps she could make a run for it, perhaps she could steal a car, or just run into the fields--

"First time here?" _For fucks sake_. Putting on a smile, she turned and regarded the young man in front of her, dressed in a humble flannel shirt and jeans, cowboy hat perched on his head. Blonde hair peaked out under the ridge of the hat as he smiled back at her, hand extended to introduce himself. She took his hand firmly and shook, trying to use the time to analyze a way out of this scenario until she realised she hadn't actually said anything. 

"...you could say that." Her response was so delayed that it made her look like an idiot, but the man in front of her didn't seem to mind as he motioned to start walking into the Church, placing his hand respectfully on her back. 

"It's a new experience, let me tell ya', you won't regret it! You can sit with me if you like, and if you have any questions, you can let me know, or you could speak with John afterwards." He smiled widely, the gap in between his front teeth almost causing a whistle and she smiled back, she could at least appreciate when someone was being genuine. She followed the man inside, and that was when John caught her gaze, his eyes glued to her as she followed the man to a pew, sitting next to him with her legs folded and her hands in her lap, poised and primed. She returned his gaze, unwavering, knowing this was a power struggle, and at least he couldn't lose his shit at her in front of a room full of people who _adore him_. 

Breaking his eye contact, he turned his bible to a page and set it on the mantle, before his gaze returned to her, glowering with such a heated intensity that almost made her strength break then and there. He licked his thumb, turning the page and maintaining her eye contact, only releasing her gaze once the room had settled down into a comfortable silence. From her time with John, she had expected for him to be the type to rant as opposed to preach, but watching him perform, she had to give him credit when it was due. He drew in the crowd, he responded to them, made them cheer, as he spoke from the Book of Joseph, and tapped into the insecurities of his congregants, the fears and their happiness. People cheered as he spoke, they genuinely believed in him, and the joyous feeling of being apart of it caused Charlotte's heart to unceremoniously lift, even though she knew for a fact that it was a fraud.

While he spoke, his gaze drifting over the audience, she searched in the sea of people for Holly, spotting her red crown at the front, the closest she could get to John and Charlotte fought the urge to roll her eyes at the woman, brain washed by the man in front. She couldn't understand why the people here could not see, or accept that John was just that - a man, but she understood why they felt the passion they did. During the sermon, the young man Charlotte was seated to had sneakily placed his arm behind her shoulders, in an attempt to look comfortable and leaned into her ear while John spoke, pointing out a passage in his own bible to her.

She nodded to him with a small smile, not really reading the words and turning back to the front, noticing John's gaze upon her once again, his shoulders tensing slightly as he flicked through the pages in front of him. She wasn't sure what _that_ specific look was, but it was a confusing one nonetheless, it put her back on edge. Soon the service was over and John stood by the door, shaking the hands of his followers as they passed through the church doors to leave. Holly stood next to him, poised like a preacher's wife, ever dutiful for John, while Charlotte waited towards the back of the line, trying to extend the amount of time she had to examine her surroundings before she returned to her confinement. The young man she had sat next to her stood in front of her, waiting to shake John's hand, and he turned around while they waited, handing her his bible.

"You can keep my copy, just so you can reflect on this week's service, then we can talk about it next week." He grinned and she gave him a small smile back, raising her hands to decline. His gaze suddenly hardened as he stared down at her, handing the book to her, his posture changing completely as his smile turned cold. 

"You might want to take my copy, Cookie." She blinked, taking the book from him and watched as he relaxed, walking further up the line as she trailed behind him. _That was...wait...only Rook calls me Cookie...I've never seen this man before though..._ She looked down at the book between her palms and caught sight of one of the pages, turned inwards. Opening the book, she spotted a small slip of note pad, folded neatly in the center of the book. Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, she thumbed the slip of paper and tucked it into her bra strap, hoping it looked like she was just readjusting it and shut the book, keeping it in front of her as they steadily moved up the line. 

Holly caught her before John did, pulling her out of the line and into a nearby empty pew, brimming with excitement. 

"Did you enjoy yourself? I tried saving you a seat but it filled up so quickly!" Charlotte gripped the bible in her hands, looking off to the side for the young man, noting he was gone before nodding slightly to Holly, hoping that was enough of an answer. Before she could pick at Charlotte for details on the service, the blonde stood up from the pew and from Holly.

"Do you know where the bathroom is?" Holly smiled and pointed her in the general direction of the rest room, towards the back of the church and Charlotte tried to not hide the urgency in her step as she fled, the folded piece of paper under her bra strap scratching against her skin. Seeing the door empty and slightly ajar, she stumbled in, kicking off her heels and locking the door to lower herself onto the seat. Pulling out the paper tentatively with the bible tucked under her arm, she unfolded it, reading it over and over. 

_Cookie,_

_Rook here, heard what happened darl, sorry we couldn't be there._  
_Bertie caught wind of special gal's comin to the congregation today, hoping you're one of em._  
_Gonna get you out, girlie, and I won't let them take you again._  
  
_Hang in there, you're stronger than you look._

She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face, threatening to split it in half as she clutched the paper for dear life. Rook hadn't forgotten about her, he was going to come for her, she meant something. Tearing up the note and wrapping it in toilet paper, Charlotte flushed the evidence of the communication down the toilet, and sat there for a bit longer. All she would need to do was to play nice, no fork stabbing, be dutiful, be a good girl, and she would be free. 

Finally hearing the noise of the crowd dissipate, she stood up from the toilet seat, washing her hands and peered through the door, only to come face to face with John Seed who was perched outside, waiting for her. Without further words, he charged forward, pulling her back into the bathroom (like _Jacob_ ), and picked her up by her hips to put her on the sink like she was nothing. She began to kick, to punch him, to pull at the pristine white dress shirt he wore as he pushed against her. 

Without further warning, he gripped her hands and slammed them above her head, with her back to the mirror and intruded in her personal space, his mouth inches away from hers. 

"Now, what's going on in here, hmm?" He whispered low, his breath tickling against her lips as his eyes stared deep into her own. She shook her head, and his bandaged hand gripped her wrists tighter, his other hand pushing her hip further back into the mirror. His gaze darkened as he regarded her features, the hand on her hip moving to her thigh as he moved her dress up further, exposing her scars to the stagnant air of the bathroom. 

"Saw you sitting with the man, what was he like?" He broke his eye contact with her, his finger grazing the scars on her thighs, tracing them while his bandaged hand still held onto her with an unrelenting grip. 

"...He was nice." She murmured, unsure of what to say. He slammed her entwined wrists against the glass again, his gaze returning to her face in a heated stare that would have curdled her skin if he could. 

"I can be _nice_ too Charlotte." She stared back at him, feeling the fear begin to rise up her spine once again as his other hand that was tracing his carvings dug deep within her wounds, reopening them. 

"Why did you invite me here today?" She stuttered, earning her a inquisitive look from John who stopped applying pressure to her scars. Blood began to drip back down her thighs as he stepped back, looping her wrists with both hands before stroking her palms, almost affectionately. Jealousy forgotten, fork-stab incident forgotten, he took in a deep breath, holding her hands gently before responding.

"Because, _I wanted you_ _here_." Before she could stop herself, a laugh escaped her chest, the sound almost foreign to her ears, let alone John's. To distract himself, he plucked some toilet paper and began to dab the blood on her thighs, the giggles flowing even though they were purely sarcastic in nature.

"Nice joke, John, who put you up to it--" 

"It's not a joke, Charlotte. Perhaps if you could see how happy people are here, you too could see yourself as being happy here too." He was serious, and Charlotte felt her heart kind of reach out to him, regardless of the bullshit he had put her through. She stared forward as he dabbed the wounds on her legs, cleaning the blood up without looking at her, which made her feel like deep down, there was some truth to the madness. 

"You sliced me up, you embarrassed me, and you think I could be happy here." She couldn't help herself, wanting to get the final dig into John if he was being sincere. He nodded calmly, so unlike the man she had come to know. This John was subdued, not chaotic as much as the John who had reopened her wounds only minutes earlier. Throwing the sullied paper into the waste bin, he slid his hands further up her thighs, gripping the edge of her ass, fingers trailing along the hem of her underwear, his body heat like a volcano, sending goosebumps up her legs and arms. She felt her face flush, feeling indignant as she tried to push his arms away, but he held on tight. 

"You may not see it now, Charlotte, but you belong here." He leaned forward, his breath tickling the nape of her neck. "You belong here, _with me_."

Without warning, he sunk his teeth into her neck, and she screeched, writhing as his bite cut through her skin. She began to scratch and kick, inflicting minute scratches of her own on his neck and face, but he didn't seem to mind in the slightest, even beginning to laugh as she could feel blood drip down her shoulder blades and in between her bosom. He stepped back, his teeth bloodied as he grinned wildly, slapping her thighs with a sharp clap before licking his teeth and smugly wiping his lip. 

"Tell your _boyfriend_ to sit somewhere else next time." He turned and walked through the door, leaving Charlotte heaving with rage, a bloodied neck, bloodied thighs and a ruined dress. 


	14. Hath No Fury

As John walked away from what Charlotte could only describe as a mauling, in a church no less, she spun to the mirror and inspected her wounds, grimacing. She tried to clean herself off as best as she could, as quickly as she could, but the damage was done, the beautiful blue of her dress had patches of what now looked like brown smudges from her furious scrubbing, while her neck looked like something out of a horror film.

Peeping through the door of the bathroom, checking to see if anyone was in sight, she spotted a coat room across the corridor from the bathroom and sprinted to it, examining the coat racks in hopes that someone had left a jacket, a scarf or something for her to hide the mess that John had made. Luckily for her, a suit jacket had been left, so without further thought, she slipped it over her arms, ignoring the fact that it came down to her knees and made her look like a child attempting to dress up as their parent.

Walking out of the coat room, ignoring the musty smell of the jacket, she looked around for Holly, spotting her next to John on a pew to the front of the church, his arm dangling back behind Holly as she laughed with him, as if he had just told her the funniest joke known to man. Charlotte looked to the door behind her, checking for guards and spotting a few who were aimlessly roaming and sighed before stalking forward into the church, the patter of her heels on the wooden floor drawing both John and Holly out of their conversation to stare at her as she walked over, her face flushing at the smirk John adorned.

_Motherfucker._

"Oh my _God_ , Charlotte, what happened to you?" Holly leapt up from her seat and glided to Charlotte, who stood in the aisle of the pew, fists clenched around the cuffs of the shirt jacket. 

"It's nothing, just some loser attacked me." She took pleasure in watching the flicker behind John's eyes before he stood, grabbing both of the women by their elbows and walking them towards the front door of the church.

"Time to go, ladies, much work to be done!" 

"But, _John_ , someone attacked her!" Holly pleaded, and Charlotte rolled her eyes at the irony. 

"And it'll be investigated, but we must go." The grip on the blonde's elbow tightened to almost painful, as if warning her to try something, as they ventured out of the church towards a van. The doors opened for them as they walked closer, John allowing the women to go into it first - _always the fucking gentleman_ \- before he sat beside Charlotte, perhaps to close. As the guards closed the doors behind them and the van began to move, Charlotte closed her eyes and tuned out of Holly's conversation, taking deep breaths once again, wishing there was just a void that could be opened to swallow her whole, and away from this place.

John's cologne filled her senses as he reclined back into the comfort of the van, his arm tucked behind them and she could feel his fingers twirling the hair at the back of her neck slightly. Opening her eyes, she stared forward at Holly, who was oblivious to the action as she spoke about the service, her face full of excitement. Feeling eyes on her, she turned to John, who had been staring at her side profile for perhaps a bit too long. She raised an eyebrow before he leaned forward, cutting off Holly with a wave and resting his cheek on his palm.

"How did you find the service, Charlotte?" The van was silent as both Holly and John stared forward at her, expectant. Her answer must have been taking too much for John's liking as only seconds later, she felt the hair at the base of her neck grow taunt as he pulled it. Coughing, trying to hide the wince, she nodded and sent a small smile towards Holly. 

"It was, um, nice."

"What was your favorite part?" John enquired, the hair he had pinched at the back of her neck still firm in his grip. Charlotte hadn't been listening during the service, and John must have known, relishing in her uncomfortable posture.

"All of it...?" The other occupants laughed and John leaned back, his hand finally releasing the small tuft of hair at the back of her neck and returning to his lap, once again beginning their ever present thrum on his thigh, a dance to a tune that no one but John knew himself. Holly folded her hands in her lap and smiled at John, adoration written completely over her face, her lips parting widely as she took him in. It made Charlotte feel sick.

"John, why did you include that particular verse in the service today?" She questioned and Charlotte stared forward, focusing on Holly's hands in her lap. John shook his head, confused at the vague question before Holly giggled. 

"Let all my enemies be ashamed and greatly troubled; Let them turn back and be ashamed suddenly, Psalm 6:10--" And in that moment, Charlotte felt a light bulb in her brain go off, as the puzzle clicked together. Had she been listening to the service, she would have got it sooner. This whole game, the biting, teasing, humiliation, it was all just one giant game to John to spite her. While he could easily break her bones, tear her skin to shreds, it was the psychological horror that would take longer to fix. The air left her lungs as John and Holly continued their conversation, but she paid it no mind as the revelation took ahold of her, possessed her. 

The rage she had tried to keep subsided, excluding the fork-hand incident, came back in a flush, like a pure methamphetamine hit and her hands trembled slightly at the sensation. John was deliberately doing this to fuck with her, and although she always knew this, the verse solidified that. He was going to keep fucking with her until he got bored, like a child and a toy. What would happen if she got boring? She didn't know, but she wasn't going to go down like this, humiliated, used for the amusement for a total _narcissistic fuck head_ like _John Seed_. 

_Jacob wouldn't want you to be taken down like tha--_

No. He wouldn't. 

Unable to keep the crazed smile seeping onto her face, she turned to John, grinning like a woman undone. He blinked back at her warily, holding her gaze as she stared at him, grinning. She wasn't going to resort to physical violence to fuck with John Seed, she was going to play his own game against him and as she turned to Holly, who asked if she was okay, she knew exactly how she was going to do it. 

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. 

* * *

Charlotte's plan was simple, if she can't exactly fuck with John directly (well she could, but she wanted to play this part of her plan first), she was going to have to resort to those close to him. She felt bad for involving Holly in the scheme, but as the mistress of said Baptist, she was only the best possible unaware recruit that Charlotte could muster. From her past experience of attempting to seduce a Seed and failing, greatly, Charlotte wanted to avoid that completely because she knew how much she sucked at it. 

So, after they left the van, John bid them goodbye as he walked towards his aircraft hangar, and Holly walked Charlotte with arms looped towards Seed Ranch, talking amicably before Charlotte decided to make her first move. 

"So, Holly, I was really impressed by the service today, John is such a great speaker..." She crooned as Holly walked them through the front door of Seed Ranch, nodding in agreeance. "And he's handsome...I just wish-- nevermind." Holly stopped, tilting her head to the side.

"Wish what?" Charlotte feigned apathy, sighing heavily as he unwound herself from Holly's grip. 

"Nothing, really, I just wish that I could get more um, _involved_ with the church proceedings. Perhaps some, private lessons? Could you ask?" Holly frowned slightly before nodding slowly. 

"I can but why the sudden interest?" Charlotte looked to her feet, attempting the most bashful look she could muster before smiling coyly, sliding a lock of hair behind her ear.

"I just heard how much he likes blondes." With a wink, she walked towards the kitchen door, feeling Holly's gaze on the back of her head, piercing right through her skull. It was entirely too forward for her own liking, but Charlotte was intent on fucking with John to the fullest extent she could, and if it meant fucking her friendship with Holly, who by all means is the whole reason this fucked up scenario began in the first place ( _learnhowtoironafuckingshirt_ ) it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

Charlotte didn't need to remind herself that she had already killed a person before, and that this wouldn't be much different. Pushing the guilt down, she heard the patter of Holly's heels follow her into the kitchen and Charlotte pretended to take no notice as she rummaged through the fridge, preparing food. 

"What are you doing now?" Holly enquired, perching herself at the marble counter, her arms clutched around her.

"Making John some lunch, why?" Charlotte tilted her head, watching as the bright spark within Holly's eyes dim, only slightly. There was a brief moment of silence as she worked, Holly watching her like a hawk as she put the sandwich together. For added effect, Charlotte began to hum John's song, relishing in the twitch of Holly's hand resting on the kitchen table.

"Where did you hear the blonde thing?" Holly's usual voice lacked its luster as she murmured. Charlotte stopped mid-hum and looked at Holly, painting a look of confusion on her face like the performer she was. 

"Oh, it was just at the service, someone said something about John liking blondes -- a lot of blondes." Charlotte forced a laugh, hoping it was genuine enough as she returned to her work, Holly's eyes never leaving her face. The red head nodded slowly and watched Charlotte put together the plate of food, reaching out as the blonde picked up the plate within her own grasp.

"I'll take it." Clipped, she pulled the plate from Charlotte's hands before she could have a chance to pretend to interject, and watched as Holly stalked out of the room, a pin up doll, the perfect image of the perfect housewife. Wiping her hands on a nearby cloth, Charlotte grinned as Holly walked away, endorphins throbbing inside of her, finally allowing herself to take pleasure out of being one petty bitch.

* * *

Charlotte hadn't seen John or Holly after that for sometime as she potted around the ranch, doing various chores, waiting for her next move. Within a few days, her period had arrived and so she had forced herself to scrub the ranch from roof to floor to pass the time, doing laundry, even gardening, no matter how bad her cramps got. She needed to pass the time if neither John or Holly were going to show.

Wearing her shorts and a spare shirt she uplifted from the laundry, she sat outside, pulling weeds out of the garden, grunting under the mid-day sun, until a shadow overcame her. Squinting, she turned, and a woman in white with flowers in her hair smiled down at her - she recognised her as Faith Seed instantly and reared back, falling ungracefully into the shrubs with a grunt. Faith giggled and reached out her hand with a smile, offering it to Charlotte who took it. Pulling her up to her feet, she dusted herself off and apprehensively stared at Faith, who continued to smile.

"Hello!" Faith chirped, swaying slightly, fingers tangled in a daisy chain. Charlotte returned her hello with a nod before squatting back down, continuing to pull weeds and hoping that Faith would get the indication she didn't necessarily want to chit chat with another Seed. The brunette squatted down beside Charlotte, continuing to loop the daisy chain as she watched the blonde work.

"I've never seen anyone do the gardening here before." Faith chirped once again, her voice light and airy and Charlotte turned back to her, mid-squat, and shrugged. 

"I'm not really a gardener, just keeping myself busy." _Please go away._

"Why are you here, Charlotte?" She blinked, unaware the other woman even knew her name, and it felt ominous, the way Faith was smiling at her. Why was she here? Why was _Faith here?_ As far as she knew, the woman never left the Henbane, so her being at Seed Ranch was unexpected to say the least. Not knowing how to reply, Charlotte shrugged, returning to the weeds and ripping them out with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. 

"Do you want to be coveted or possessed, Charlotte?" She didn't turn back around to Faith, only choosing to answer the vague question with a shrug as Faith continued. "You have two choices ahead of you, Charlotte, one is to be coveted, the other is possessed, so when the collapse comes, what will you choose?" Charlotte felt a small pressure on her head and she turned to Faith, who began looping the daisy chain in her bun, her eyes clouded in a light sheen of green, sparkling under the mid-day sun.

Standing up, Charlotte dusted her hands off on her shorts, staring down at Faith who continued to sit on the ground by the garden, running her hand through it like it was catnip to her. 

"Is there no third option?" Faith smiled up at her and shook her head. 

"For you? Only death." Chills ran up her spine as Faith smiled, Charlotte nodded slowly before she waived goodbye, turning heel and walking towards the front door of Seed Ranch, picking apart her exchange with Faith within her brain over and over. 

* * *


	15. Alone

After her escape from her one-on-one with Faith Seed, Charlotte decided to give herself a break, sitting on the bar stool of the kitchen counter she had grew to hate, collapsed forward on her arms, the cool bench a relief from the heat of the day. She had exhausted all revenue of activity she could find whilst she waited for her next opportunity in her phase of 'get Holly to ruin John's life' plan, and quite frankly she was bored. _Wonder what Granny would say if she heard I actually gardened? She'd probably die all over again._

She had to wonder though, as she was slumped forward, what her encounter with Faith was actually about. How much did the woman know? Why did she say those things? As her mind began to whirl with potential scenario's and reasons, she groaned, thumping her fist against the marble, another cramp hitting her right in the gut. Firstly, why was she here is her first question, Faith almost never left the Henbane, unless there was a good reason, so all Charlotte could think of was either a) another family get together ( _to discuss the massacre of many_ ) or b) Rook is causing chaos. 

She really hoped it was the latter, all four Seeds in one room meant more work for her, and more torture. 

Sighing, she felt her cramp pass and she lifted her head up, seeing one of Faith's underlings walking past the window of the kitchen, walking in a daze similar to that you would see of a zombie, no ambition, no personality, just an empty shell in a green haze. She wondered what it would be like, to be that far down the rabbit hole - there was no going back once Faith got you. As if he heard her thoughts, he turned into the window, staring forward at her. Staring back at him, she felt like this was the perfect set up for a horror movie - _have the lambs stopped screaming, Clarice?_

The man turned away from the window, seemingly spotting something before he staggered towards it, out of Charlotte's view and she allowed her face to relax, kicking her legs out like a child, waiting for something to do, and that's when she heard a familiar screech from outside, so familiar that it made her sit up straight and rush to the window she spotted the guard walk past. Craning forward, she spotted the man leaning over a blonde woman, his hand gripping her arm as she struggled, clawing back at him. Charlotte looked around, not seeing any other guards around and rushed out towards the side door, into the garden towards the couple. 

It wasn't until she got closer minutes later that she realised who the woman was, her blue dress and ruby lips immaculate as the day she first saw her, Holly. But Holly had red hair. Why was Holly blonde-- _oh. That's right._

She told her John _liked_ blondes.

Charlotte stumbled forward, gripping the arm of the guard and attempted to wrench him away from Holly, who stumbled out of his grip, clutching her arm with a pale, stricken expression. The guard turned to Charlotte, his face contorted in a weird mix of emotion, a strange blank smile that never reached his eyes. Up close, it was like staring into the face of a mannequin. 

"I'm trying to talk to my wife here." His voice was airy, his eyes were dull and had a green sheen dusted over them as he loomed over Charlotte, who finally let go of him. Charlotte looked towards Holly who shook her head furiously, the wordless conversation they had was enough confirmation that Charlotte needed to know this was not a good situation. Sure, she was planning on psychologically fucking with Holly, _but she can't have this random dude fucking it up for her_.

"She's not your wife, sir, and she doesn't want to talk to you." Inside, Charlotte allowed herself an internal happy dance, hoping that Rook would be proud of how she schooled her voice into such an authoritative tone. Maybe she could have been a cop, but past Charlotte wouldn't have the balls for that. The man stared down at Charlotte before his face twisted into rage, gripping his temples and clenching his teeth, breathing like a raging bull.

Before she could see it coming, he swung a meaty fist, aiming for Holly who screeched and stumbled back further, Charlotte without a second thought leapt forward, jumping on the man's back with an iron grip, locking her legs over his hips and began to scratch - _so much for all your training, Pinky._ From then, she felt like she had begun riding a bull as he tried to swing her off of his back, while she continued to claw at his face - Holly stood from the side, shaking, wide-eyed at the exchange. 

Finally, the man had managed to wind arm around, gripping a tuft of Charlotte's blonde hair that had come loose from her bun and yanked, ensuring she released her grip on his face from the pain, giving him enough time to swing her off of him. She landed on the ground, the gravel digging into her back as she stared up at him, his entire being the epitome of rage. 

"Who the fuck are you to come between a man and his wife?" Without further warning, the guard stomped into Charlotte's ribs, making her wheeze forward, as another boot then collided with her stomach, making her feel like he had almost kicked through her. Another stamp, followed by another, and Charlotte felt something crack under the pressure of his assault, her arms winding over her ribs as she rolled to the side, a shock settling into her body, bringing back the all-familiar feeling of numb that she had grown used to. Perhaps she would die here - _that would be nice_. 

Craning one eye open, she watched in slow motion as his boot came into view, growing closer to her face and she felt herself smile, _maybe I can finally be free_. 

The crack of his boot against her lip and mouth proved that she wasn't going to be free any time soon, her body refusing to give into her mind's indulgence of dying as she clutched her face. The guard ceased his assault, breathing heavily down at her, and through her fingers, she watched his boots crunch past her over the gravel and away from the garden, fleeing. She felt small hands on her shoulders, twisting her slowly onto her back and gazed up at Holly, who had pressed a white piece of cloth to her lip, tears rolling down her face. If the camera's were rolling, this would have been a cinematic masterpiece for sure.

Holly was muttering something through her sobs, perhaps she was apologising, Charlotte didn't really listen as she stared past Holly, eyes watching the white pillows of clouds roam over the blue sky. She felt like a kid again, watching the clouds, and even as another guardsman had rushed towards them, cradling Charlotte, she kept her eyes forward to the sky, and for a moment, she felt peace. If she were to die right now, she would be happy.

Charlotte felt a small smile drift over her face, uncaring of the pain of her split lip, the shock of her body making her feel like she was high and allowed her eyes to close shut as she was rushed into the ranch, before the pain of her injuries sent her into a sleep.

* * *

When she woke, she kind of wished she didn't - everything fucking hurt.

Rolling over to her side, she winced and sat up, gripping her ribs and coughing, cringing further as the pain only deepened. She attempted to crane open both of her eyes and only managed one, as her right eye had been sealed shut, _he must have done a lot of damage_. 

"You shouldn't be moving." It was perhaps the last voice she wanted to hear right now, but she turned to John who sat, bible open in his lap, his fingers dancing over the pages, legs splayed and crossed at the ankles by her door. There was a different air about him, it was strange, she couldn't put her finger on it as he regarded her, as she him, examining the lines of his face as he frowned. She gave him a small shrug, wincing once again at the pain that reverberated in her ribs, followed by another cramp. _What a fucking shit combination_.

Unwinding his legs, he stood, placing the book closed on the chair of her room and walked towards her. She made no move to get away from him as he sat down on her bed, his hands gently gripping her face, tilting it from one side to the other as he looked at her injuries. It was odd, she was so used to him inflicting pain on her, that this moment of tenderness made her suspicious of him further. She felt her hands grip the bedding tightly, a sweat developing on her skin in anticipation for what could happen next. 

"Who did this?" His voice was soft as he moved her hair from her face, brushing it like a mother would a child. Charlotte opened her mouth to speak but only a pained rasp came from her throat, erupting into a small coughing fit. John leaned over to the bedside table by her, handing her a cup of water and tilting it to her lips, Charlotte allowed him this pleasure, relishing in the cool liquid as it glided down her throat. He tilted the cup away, settling it back down on the table before he returned to her hair, brushing it behind her head in a calming motion.

"You were so stupid today, Charlotte, but so brave." His words didn't seem mocking in the slightest as she stared into his eyes, only finding pure sincerity. "I am so _proud_ of you." He leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to her forehead, and then to her right eye, her nose - it felt like butterflies along her skin. She felt blood rush to her face and her hands grip onto his forearms as he leaned his forehead against hers, delicate, like she were made of glass. 

"It was one of the Angels, wasn't it darling? None of my men would have done this to you..." She felt herself slowly nod, her inner voice telling her she was being pathetic, taking sympathy and giving into John when she should be focusing on taking him down, but she just didn't have it in her right now. She was tired. 

As if she had pleased him, he smiled, and it was then she realised how attractive he really was, when he wasn't causing her misery, or being a little shit. She could see how Holly could love this man. With one more brush of her hair behind her ear, he leaned back and sat up, staring at her, hand still gripping her face gently. 

"I'll take care of it, I just want you to rest. Do that for me?" Feeling drained, she nodded and made a move to lay back, closing her eyes and letting herself drift into sleep once more.

* * *

When she awoke again, it must have been midnight, and the smell of cigarette smoke wafted through her open window, reinvigorating a long forgotten habit. She sat up and stretched her legs, and made the effort to swing herself over the bed, gripping the headboard firmly. She had to get out of bed or else she felt like her bones would fuse together. 

"Woah, woah, woah - I said rest, didn't I?" John stood by her window, cigarette poised in between his fingers. _I didn't know he smoked._ As if he could read her mind, he followed her gaze to the lit cigarette and gave her a light shrug, taking a drag and tapping it out of the window. 

"It can be our little secret." She gave him a deadpanned look before motioning to the pack that lay on the window sill, and with a raised eyebrow, he walked forward, retrieving one and settling it between her split lips, lighting it with the one he had lit himself. She took a long drag, coughing before letting the smoke fall from her lips. His gaze was still on her face as he stood over her before he returned to the window, tapping the packet shut and taking another breath in. 

"Dirty habit." She mumbled, the pain of her ribs thrumming within her, her face feeling bloated and numb. He let out a small laugh and nodded before returning to look out the window. The silence between them settled amicably as they smoked, both encompassed within their own personal thoughts and Charlotte allowed herself to finally relax in it. John stabbed the rest of his cigarette out on the window sill before flicking it out the window and turned to her, his expression unreadable. 

She took another drag and returned his gaze, feeling her eyebrow raise expectantly, a question lingering between them. John walked forward towards her once again, placing a gentle hand on her cheek and tilting her face up to look at him, brushing a careful thumb across her cheek bone before leaning down and once again, placing a small kiss on her forehead. She could feel his breath, soft and warm, against her skin as he leaned away, his eyes a blue abyss of emotion that she could get lost in. The handsome smile she saw earlier spread across his face once again as he loomed over her.

"Just when I think I have figured you out, Miss Dunn, you go and do something different." She felt herself still, the cigarette still poised between her fingers as he regarded her, before letting her face go and turning away, walking out the door and closing it behind him softly. She didn't know how long it was that she stared at her door, and deep down, she kind of wanted him to come back.

His departure made her feel lonely. She was tired of being alone.


	16. Sermon

Without a doubt, the constant presence of John Seed was something that Charlotte could possibly never get used to.

Every day since the assault, she found herself in his presence - whether it be him just sitting idly on the desk by her bed, going through many piles of paper while she read a book, or sharing a secret cigarette with her, or just wanting to rant to her about his day, it was just so _fucking weird_. She never even knew what to say to him either, choosing to sit in silence while he ranted, and moaned about the day he had, or about his past, always flailing his arms about as if he were rehearsing a monologue from a Shakespearean play. She had to admit, however, that she definitely saw his charm, the attraction to the man that everyone else saw.

He had a way of making you feel like you were the only one who mattered, and that his purpose was just and true, not the notorious shit show of a situation she had been aware of, but never-the-less, she continued to nod politely as he ranted, and watched his performance unfold. Today, he was not in the best of moods, as he stormed through her door way, said door slamming against the paneling of the wall as he stomped into the center of the room before returning back to the door to fling it shut, as if it itself was the issue of his day. Charlotte watched as he let out a deep sigh and his hands clenched and unclenched, clicking from the force of his grip. He stayed like that, breathing in and out, and Charlotte could only watch from her bed, watching his shoulders dip up and down with each attempt to calm. 

Eventually it got a bit awkward for her, so with a small clearing of her throat, she sat up and leaned against her headboard. 

"Everything okay, John--" He spun around as soon as her voice perpetuated the air, eyes alight as he raised his arms up to run his fingers through his hair, gripping his aviators off of his crown and promptly throwing them against the wall. Charlotte winced at the sickening crack of the frames against the wall and John paced himself up to Charlotte, his fingers gripped as if he had an intention of choking her. She quickly shuffled back to get away from his grip, to which John noticed and stopped, dropping his arms by his sides and choosing to sit by her feet on her bed with a groan.

"Everything is not _fucking_ okay." She wrapped her arms around her knees, drawing her chin atop of them and stared back at John, watching the throb of the vein in his neck, the flush of his skin as he ground his teeth together. She waited, as she always seemed to, for him to begin his monologue - she knew it wouldn't be long before the silence of the room got to him. He sighed once again, turning to gaze at her before flopping back onto the bed to stare at the ceiling of her room. 

"He broke my sign, and stole my plane." Charlotte blinked and the rush of happiness rushed through her so fast that she had to bite the inside of her lip to not smile. 

"Who did, John?" She already knew who did and he knew that she knew too. She watched as his hands gripped the white linen of her bed, turning pale in the tension of it before she got her answer.

" _That_ _fucking Deputy._ " Charlotte hummed, hiding her face in the crevasse of her legs, letting the smile stretch across her face.

"He just fucking walked in like he owned the fucking place, jumped in, and flew off? Do you know how _humiliating that is?_ Then, I get a call to look at my sign, and I look out the window, and where is it? _All_ _over the fucking place. In pieces._ " He waved his arms around him, his right hand slapping against her curled form in the process, causing her to jump slightly. His hand smoothened down her leg where he hit it, as if to say sorry as she looked up at him, finding his gaze on hers, the anger he had possessed only a few moments ago had dissipated. John looked exhausted. 

"I'm just trying to make things right in this county, before the collapse, and that _fucking imbecile_ just has to _fuck everything up_." His tone softened as his fingers drifted from freckle to freckle, connecting them on her legs. Charlotte nodded, allowing him to continue his ministrations as he ranted. 

"Is there something he wants?" John broke his gaze to stare back up at the ceiling with a sigh as his arm stopped touching Charlotte, dropping back down onto the mattress with a solid thump. 

"Hudson." Charlotte turned slowly, wincing at the pain of her ribs, to lie down next to John, both of their legs dangling over the edge of the bed as they stared upward. 

"Who's Hudson?" Without turning towards him, she could see John shake his head before he turned on his side to face her, reaching over her to grip a pillow to tuck under his head, the expensive smell of cologne filled her nostrils and she allowed herself the pleasure of breathing it in deeply before turning to face him herself. His hand began to brush against her cheek as she stared at him, the moment becoming oddly intimate within a few moments. 

"How is it that I can come in here, guns blazing, and you can calm me down in a matter of minutes?" He whispered, his eyes drawing half closed as he stared at her features. She shrugged, tucking an arm under her head, returning his gaze. He yawned and pulled a portion of her blanket over him, burying his face into her pillow. 

"If he wants his partner back, he's gonna have to try harder." His voice was muffled, but it was enough information for Charlotte to put two and two together. Hudson was an officer, John had her _somewhere_ and Rook needed her back. Charlotte's current plan of fucking up the relationship between Holly and John had been put on pause since her little one-sided fight with Faith's Angel, so this was something that she could perhaps focus on in the mean time, but _how?_

How would she find Hudson? How could she help Rook?

Tentatively, she reached out to John's form, her hand softly brushing against his cheek as he turned to look at her, confused. This was perhaps the first time that she had reciprocated back any affection, and his eyes began to dance back with life. Charlotte gave him a small smile as she caressed his five o'clock shadow.

"I want to go to another one of your services, John - is that okay?" The smile that split across his face was blinding, to the point that it almost made her feel guilty.

* * *

He had her cleared the day before she was to attend his sermon by a 'medical professional', she used the term loosely to describe the guy as he looked more like a homeless man than a doctor. On the day of the sermon, she gripped her bible against her chest and fidgeted with the hem of her blue dress, noting that it was the dress that Holly wore to the last service. Looking at herself in the mirror, she grimaced at her reflection and at the bite mark that John had left, the bruising still looked atrocious against her fair skin and it didn't help that it was on display for all to see. John had however insisted on her wearing this dress, so with a sigh, she made her way out of the door and down the staircase slowly, not wanting to disturb her injuries any further than she already had. 

John stood at the end of the staircase, his arm raised for her to take it. Charlotte looked around the room, frowning. 

"Where's Holly?--" 

"Not coming today. Let's get going." She took his arm and let him lead her out of the ranch and to the van that they would be travelling in, feeling eyes on her from every direction. Her lip was still split slightly, and her eyes were still bruised, she must have looked like an abused 50's housewife in this get up, but if John noticed, he didn't act like it as he pulled her along, the brilliant shine of his smile unable to be dampened by the prying eyes of his flock. 

He slid open the door for her to the van and helped her in first before stepping up himself and settling next to her. He looked at her bible and nodded appreciatively, his arm coming to rest behind her shoulders as the van began to veer off onto the driveway. 

"I'm so happy you've decided to come back again, Charlotte." His fingers began to once again wind in the back of her head, back in the small tuft of hair that refused to be pinned into her bun. She smiled and nodded back to him and listened as he began to chat about the service and his flock excitedly. Her fingers wound themselves over the cover of the bible, idly tracing its corners as she stared forward, his voice only background noise as she zoned out.

She had a plan, well - sort of a plan and her plan relied solely on the book in her hands, and Bertie. She knew there was a chance that Bertie was probably dead, just from how John acted initially to their confrontation, but she had hoped that it wouldn't be the case. Her fingers gripped the edges tightly and she closed her eyes. _Please don't be dead._ John's arm pulled her in closer, so she was tucked into his side as he whispered in her ear.

"You alright?" She turned to him and smiled once again.

"Nervous, is all." He let out a small laugh before kissing the crown of her head and pulling her head to rest on his shoulder.

"Nothin' to be nervous for, you're mine and they all know it." Charlotte shut her eyes and whispered a silent prayer to whoever was listening and allowed herself to doze against one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse like a lover.

* * *

He shook her awake gently, announcing that they had arrived and she rubbed her eyes, hoping that she hadn't ruined her bun atop her head in her slumber. John helped her up on her feet and looped her arm around his as he lead her to the back of the van, the doors opened already for them. Members of the congregation walked forward, all talking in unison to John as he smiled and waved, walking both Charlotte and himself to the Church. 

The blonde looked around through the crowd, hoping it came across as an idle gaze and let out a small sigh of relief, spotting Bertie on the outskirts of the Church. Unwinding her arm from John, she patted it and looked up at him with what she hoped was an adoring smile, to which he returned and mouthed 'bathroom'. He nodded before turning back to his congregates and Charlotte power walked as quickly as she could to Bertie, ignoring the pain in her ribs as she stalked forward with her book.

Bertie took in her injuries as she stalked forward and shook his head, nodding towards the side of the Church for her to follow. She turned to check if John was watching - which luckily he wasn't - before she followed him. As soon as they were alone, she thrust the bible towards Bertie with haste. 

"Your book." 

He let out a small laugh before taking it away from her, folding it under his arm. 

"That it?" She nodded slowly, holding his gaze.

"Page 55 is my _favorite_." He held her line of sight for a moment before opening the page she mentioned, a note tucked between it's pages, the black scrawl of her handwriting looked almost unnatural to her as he read it aloud. " _I'll help."_

She nodded and let out another sigh, staring down at her shoes as the gravel crunched under her weight. 

"Where is she?" She murmured and Bertie leaned against the wall of the Church, the red flannel of his shirt making him stand out blaringly against the white walls. 

"Bunker." He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tucking one between his teeth and lighting it, dragging it slowly as he watched Charlotte fidget. She looked up and nodded, hoping that they were on the same wave length before she turned away and walked towards the entrance of the Church, and back to John, leaving Bertie to smoke in peace. She stalked around the corner of the Church, playing with the hem of her dress and almost tripped as she collided with a wall she had not expected to be there. 

Startled, she looked up, ready to murmur an apology and felt the blood drain from her face. 

"Well, look what the cat dragged in..." Jacob crooned and she felt her face flush back to life - God her body missed that goddamn voice and she didn't know why. As soon as the smile had drifted onto his face, it faltered as he took in her split lip, her bruised eyes, and finally, the bite mark that stood blaring against her skin. His face then became a blank slate as he regarded her, and she nervously shuffled her weight between her feet, the gravel continuing to crunch under his scrutinizing gaze. 

"J-Jacob, wasn't expecting to see you here--" His arms folded behind his back, ever the soldier, as he tilted down to glower at her, his tall frame looming over her, making her feel smaller than ever. 

"Who did this?" His voice was clipped, the same deadly tone she had thought she would never hear again sending chills down her spine. She moved to get past him, excusing herself before his arm reached out and gripped her elbow, preventing her from getting past. He leaned in, his breath tickling the curls of her hair that had gone astray from her bun against her ear. She looked around, noting that none of the congregates were watching, wrapped up in their own conversations with each other and breathed in, allowing herself to relish in the warmth of Jacob's hand on her skin.

"I'm not gonna ask again, sweetheart." The endearment shot straight through her like a burning arrow, alighting every nerve to her core, she could feel a sheen of sweat begin to bead against her skin at Jacob's proximity and he seemed to lean in closer, clicking his tongue as he waited for her to respond. As if he were her guardian angel, Bertie's voice carried behind her, his happy tone cutting the air like a knife through butter.

"Want to sit next to me in the service today, Charlotte?" She spun around and Jacob released her, stepping back towards the Church as if he hadn't had an intention of tearing her limb from limb. She nodded appreciatively to Bertie before shaking her head, apologizing.

"Sorry Bert, John didn't like it last time so. It's up the front for me." Bertie nodded before walking past the duo, patting her on the shoulder, giving her a wink as he paced past her. Charlotte looked at Jacob, who was staring down at her from his recline against the Church, clicking his knuckles between his hands. 

"John did it?" She didn't have a chance to respond before the service was called, and she rushed forward between the crowds of people to make her way into the Church. She could feel Jacob's gaze follow her as she stumbled past people as they began to fill in the pews, wincing as she caught an unfortunate elbow in the ribs from an unknown congregate as she walked forward to the front, to the reserved spot where John had said she would be sitting. At the end of the pew, right in the front row. He stood at the mantle and regarded her with a wide smile, motioning for her with a sweep of his arm to the spot as she hurried to sit, and Charlotte could feel the weight of every step Jacob took as he walked past her to stand by the wall at the front, his fingers tucked into his jean pockets as he surveyed the room before nodding to John to begin the sermon.

Throughout the service, she felt the weight of both John and Jacob's gazes on her, and she tried her best to ignore them by staring forward into the stained glass window at the back of the Church behind John's head, the tension of the day taking a toll on her as she began to feel the pain in her ribs and the dull ache in her face spring back to life, the pain relief wearing off of her as John's voice carried throughout her head, humming. 

_Hudson was in a bunker. Where was this fucking bunker? How am I going to do this? Jesus fucking Christ, why do I take on tasks that I know I am going to absolutely fucking suck at._ Breaking her thoughts to look up at the ceiling, she frowned, the cut in her lip throbbing at the motion, and she let out a silent prayer once again. 

_Please don't let me fuck this up, Grandma._


	17. Boom

Charlotte spent the remainder of the sermon avoiding eye contact with both Seed brothers, and trying to not tremble as her mind worked with ways of how she could get Hudson out of the bunker - one she hadn't even realised existed up until this point. When John had ended his session, she abruptly stood up and power walked down the aisle, ignoring the stares she received as she made her way out of the wooden doors of the Church and around the side of it, leaning against the white paneling and breathing deeply, both John and Jacob were intense on their own, and together it just made her feel three times as anxious. 

A crunch of gravel alerted her to another presence and she looked up, nodding to Bertie who took out another cigarette, this time handing it to her to which she gratefully accepted. They stood in silence as the congregates began to exit the Church, the buzz of their excitement similar to that of a beehive. Charlotte inhaled the smoke and tucked in a piece of hair behind her ear as she stared forward, her mind a whir of information. 

"You need to look after yourself, chickie." She looked up from her position against the Church and blinked at Bertie, who flicked his cigarette, the ash falling softly against the harsh gravel. Sensing her questioning gaze, he motioned to her face with his index finger, and then to her neck. 

"You're going to get yourself killed." She felt a hoarse laugh escape her throat before she could stop it. 

"I'm going to die anyway, this is nothing." Bertie gave her a look of pity before dropping his cigarette to the ground, crunching it under his boot slowly. Charlotte stared at him as he tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and looked around, checking to see if they were still alone before he dipped his head low towards her, arm extended over her shoulder onto the Church wall, caging her. 

"What are you--" He shushed her with a finger against her lips as she tried to phase into the wall of the Church, anxiety hitching in her core like a rabid dog.

"Charlotte, I need you to listen to me." She blinked and slowly nodded as he dipped further forward to her ear - to the outside world, it would just look like a loving embrace, or that was what she hoped. God forbid if John, or even Jacob, were to see this shit, Bertie would be dead in a heart beat.   
  
"The bunker, I don't know how you're going to get in, but we got a plan. It's happening very soon. We need a distraction when the time comes, darlin' - that is one way you can help us." She turned her head slightly, feeling the graze of his stubble across her face. 

"How will I know?" He stepped back, cupping her face with his hands and smiling, a knowing smile. The entire interaction was far too intimate for her liking as she found herself stiffening under his ministrations.   
  
"You'll know, darlin'." He finally released her, digging into his pocket and handing her his cigarettes with a lighter before sending her a two finger wave and sauntering off. She stood still, the cigarette in her fingers long forgotten as she watched him walk away. Charlotte tucked the lighter in between her bust and hiked up her skirt, tucking the packet of cigarettes into the lining of her underwear in a rush and brushed her dress down, hoping it couldn't be seen through the thin lining of the fabric before she let go of the breath she didn't know she had been holding. With a final drag of her cigarette, she stopped it out in the gravel and sat down, wrapping her arms around her knees, a childhood comfort as she stared out at the farmland. 

What kind of signal would they send? Will she know? How will she cause a distraction? The whole situation was incredibly convoluted and incredibly frustrating. If that wasn't enough, she listened for the same familiar crunch of boots walking towards her, watching familiar jeaned legs step into her line of sight. He would always find her, where ever she was. 

"Now, now, smoking outside a Church, cupcake? Very sacrilegious." Jacob knelt in front of her, bending at the knees to look into her face as she frowned. "Didn't know you smoked." She shrugged and the small ghost of a smile curved into his face. 

"What's the plan, Charlotte?" She blinked, choosing to play indifferent as she made a move to get up from her spot. Quicker than she anticipated, he gripped her leg and pulled, keeping her on the gravel with her leg extended out. Charlotte grimaced, unhooking her other leg so both were now splayed out in front of her, her head thumping against the wall. Jacob brushed his hand further up her leg, moving the dress slowly up, revealing the scars John had left on her thighs. 

"I'm not going to ask again." She felt her face flush as his fingertips danced across the scars, tracing the words left there with languid strokes. 

"No plan." She muttered, furiously trying to tamper the heat that ballooned within her. He tilted his head, his red hair glinting in the sun as he gave her a crooked smile, his canines poking through his lips like he was going to bite her at any minute. A warning.

"Trained ya, darlin' - you always got a plan." His fingers brushed against her inner thigh and she unknowingly spread them wider, the gentle motions of his actions almost causing her to combust. Catching the movement, Jacob stopped and withdrew his hand, slowly moving to sit next to her against the side of the building, his build blocking her from view of the last Church goers who were still talking out the front. 

"I don't have a plan, Jacob and that's what troubles me." Charlotte murmured, breathing in the smell of mountain air and gun powder from the man next to her. From the corner of her eye, she saw him nod, his arm leaning against his bent knees as they both stared out into the farmland. She felt his hand return to her thigh, gliding her dress back up, and up, and up as he smoothed down her skin, as if he could wash the scars littered there away. 

"You want to go home, darlin', I can understand that." She felt her face flush with shame as the heat that furiously burned her nerves before returned as his hand slowly travelled along her thigh. His breath tickled her neck as he leaned forward, voice lowering into a croon that drove her insides crazy. He lifted his hand from her thigh, tilting her head towards him, their mouths only a hairsbreadth apart.

"Your home is with me." He traced the cut in her lip gently, eyes never leaving her own, and she felt blood rush to every pore of her body, the thumping of her heart echoing in her chest like a drum. She felt like the world around them had disappeared as he stared at her, longingly, like she was the only thing that mattered in the world. For a moment, she forgot who she was, who he was, and relished in it. 

A bell rung throughout the air from the Church and Jacob frowned, looking up at the offending instrument like he wanted to destroy it before standing up and holding his hand out to her, helping her up from her seated position. Brushing the gravel off the back of her dress, she followed him from around the side of the Church towards the front of it without complaint, making her way back to John who was waiting by the van they had arrived in. He sent a smile to her, one that didn't quite reach his eyes as he watched them approach him, his bejewelled fingers tapping against his folded arms. 

"Was wondering where you had gone, my little chef." She sent him a polite smile as she made her way into the van, followed by John and then surprisingly Jacob. The trio sat quietly together in the back of the van, John sitting next to her with his arm reclined over her once again, possessive as always. Tilting her head towards him, John loomed into her space, breath dusting over her face as she breathed in his cologne. 

"Jacob is staying at the Ranch for the night, we have some work that needs to be done. You'll be on your best behaviour for me, won't you?" She nodded and he grinned back down at her, patting the side of her cheek affectionately before sending a look she couldn't quite understand to Jacob, who watched on, clicking his knuckles between his palms.

* * *

Charlotte found herself staring out of her bedroom window for quite sometime, as if afraid she would miss the signal from the Resistance if she dared look away. Having changed out of her Church clothes, into a pair of jeans and a plain blue Henley, she tapped the cigarette out the window and stared towards the tree line in a daze. A knock at her door brought her out of her reverie as she quickly stabbed the cigarette out, and chucking the butt out the window before muttering for the visitor to come in. 

Opening the door, Holly walked in, somewhat timidly - this would have been the first time she had seen her since the attack. Charlotte waved at her before folding her arms and leaning against the window sill. The red head-now-blonde smiled before closing the door behind her and moving to sit on Charlotte's bed.

"How are you feeling?" 

"A lot better, thanks." Holly nodded, and that was then Charlotte noticed just how tired Holly really was. The bags under her eyes were dark, she looked so exhausted, which made Charlotte feel somewhat pity for her. 

"I never thanked you, for what you did." 

"It's okay, Holly, really--"

"No, seriously, thank you Charlotte. I could have died." The smaller woman fought the urge to roll her eyes, _seriously._

"You saved my life, and not just my life, but..." Charlotte watched as Holly smiled down towards her lap, her hand stroking along her abdomen -- _oh. shit._

"...no way." Charlotte murmured, walking forward and sitting next to Holly who had somewhat brightened up, grasping the smaller blonde's hands with excitement. 

"Yes way." She forced a smile to her face, hoping that Holly would feel like she shared her excitement with her, a mother to be. She didn't need to ask who's it was, that part was obvious, but Charlotte couldn't help but feel like Holly was just a big _fucking idiot._ Pregnant. To John fucking Seed. That was a fucking death wish on both sides - the man was meant to be practicing celibacy, and here she was, telling her that she was pregnant.

"What are you going to do?" Holly frowned at the question, retracting her hands from Charlotte's grasp. 

"What do you mean? I'm going to keep him." _Him. Christ, she's already given it a fucking gender._ Charlotte placed her hand on Holly's knee and looked into her eyes, not seeing a flicker of doubt anywhere.

"Will...John be okay with this?" The younger blonde whispered, as if they weren't the only people in her bedroom. A shadow loomed over Holly's features before she smiled widely and nodding furiously back at Charlotte.

"He will be _so happy_. So thank you, for everything you've done." Without prompt, Holly leaned forward to wrap Charlotte into a bear hug and the shorter blonde could only pat her back awkwardly.

"...I'm sure he will be." 

* * *

After Holly left in a haze of excitement, Charlotte immediately left her room, needing to walk outside for air, to _think_. As if that wasn't what she had spent the entire day doing, _thinking_. She had new information, a new task, that she had no idea how to deal with. Ignoring the wince of her ribs, Charlotte powerwalked into the garden, towards the fence line of the Ranch, fighting the feeling to leap over it and gripped the railing. 

The sun was beginning to set, an orange haze looming over the Ranch and the crickets creating a symphony of their own. It was almost peaceful, almost calm enough for her to sort out the tirade of thoughts that were jumbled inside her head. She had to prepare to make a distraction, she had to prepare for this raid, but with no weapons of her own, with absolutely no resources, she felt powerless to help in anyway. 

She groaned, running her hand through her now loose blonde hair, wanting to tug it out in frustration as she paced the fence line.

"Fleetwood, whatcha doing?" Charlotte paused, the voice she thought she must have imagined because it was so hushed and so quiet. Charlotte spun around to the tree line, looking around before catching a small glint of silver perched towards her, an arrowhead. Jess walked forward slowly, like a lion poised to attack and Charlotte felt a smile stretch across her face. Looking around, spotting no guards in her vicinity, she gripped the railing of the fence once again as Jess drifted forward quietly.

"What are you doing here?" Jess hushed her before crouching, and slipping a duffle bag through the railing of the fence. Charlotte gripped it tightly, about to open it when Jess gripped her wrist and shook her own head. 

"Put this in the garden shed, and run like a bat outta hell, girl." Charlotte frowned, looking between the bag and Jess before giving her an affirming nod, her shoes crunching against the gravel of the garden as she sprinted towards the shed, not caring to look back to Jess to know what was happening. She opened the door of the shack and dropped the bag on a nearby shelf, closing the door and sprinting towards the front gate of Seed Ranch, not before giving Jess a thumbs up, who in turn made her way back towards the tree line. 

The guards standing post at the front gate watched Charlotte approach with confusion as she sprinted at full force, unsure of whether or not to stop her as she had become a staple of the Ranch. Without further thought, she sent the guards a thumbs up as they watched her sprint past, frowns painted on their faces.

"Going for a run, see ya!" She yelled, sprinting around to the other side of the fence to where Jess was. The guards, nodded back, looking at each other with wariness, until a loud explosion erupted throughout the Ranch, the sound of crunching metal and burning fuel echoing throughout the vicinity, so much so that it made Charlotte stumble over the ground as she sprinted, the pain in her ribs throbbing and her lungs burning from her run, her brain numb from the smell of burning fuel.

She ran past a bush and almost felt her arm dislocate as Jess's arm shot out, grabbing her by her elbow and wrenching her into the shrubs, pulling her through the bushes behind her. Jess pulled out her radio as they ran, muttering into it without missing a breath as they continued their trek through the foliage. Charlotte's shoes were not made for running, but she didn't care, the rush of adrenaline filling her like a drug rush. Suddenly, another explosion echoed throughout the area, smoke rising further up from Seed Ranch as they continued to run through the trees. 

"What the--" Charlotte turned to watch, only for Jess to yank her by the arm to keep going once again.

"Got no time for that, Fleetwood." Charlotte's blonde hair flailed behind her as they kept running, and she finally allowed a true smile to spread across her face. 

* * *


	18. Realisations

Both Jess and Charlotte ran, and ran, and didn't stop running through the foliage until all that was left around them were the resonating sound of crickets as it grew further into the night, becoming so dark that Charlotte could only run in the direction of the crunch of leaves in front of her, instead of relying on her eyesight. Suddenly, Jess skidded to a hault, causing the other blonde to collide with her outstretched arm, shushing Charlotte before she could question her. 

Jess breathed a low whistle, and moments later, a rustle from the bushes greeted them, followed by a chirpy yip from a dog. A torch flickered to life, shining directly into their eyes and Charlotte could make out the lining of a Deputy uniform as the dog rushed forward, jumping up on Jess and licking Charlotte's hands. 

"Look at you, Cookie, living up to the name!" Rook's voice crooned from behind the torchlight and Charlotte felt the smile stretch along her face, blood flushing her in embarrassment. The four began their walk behind Rook in comfortable silence, though Charlotte couldn't help but feel like she was being watched from within the darkness - escaping John is one thing, but with Jacob being at Seed Ranch, that would bring in a whole new dynamic. Jacob knew how and where to find her, always, and she doubted that would change in the interim. 

Following the torchlight, Charlotte spotted a cabin nearby, the windows boarded up and inconspicuous to the surroundings. Rook walked up and opened the door, not before wiping his feet on the door mat before following through, candle light illuminating the interior of the cabin. Charlotte and Jess followed suit, and the strong smell of bleach welcomed her as she walked in. Charlotte spotted a deep brown stain by the couch, and didn't need to ask what it was to know. 

Finally, in the light of the cabin, she looked at Jess and Rook - both looking worse for wear, but seemingly happy with the escape. Rook put down his firearms on the pile by the stove and rolled up his sleeves, leaning against it with crossed arms and a smile. Jess closed the door and leaned beside it, eyes ever alert through the cracks of the wooden panels that blocked them from sight outside of the cabin. Rook stared forward, grinning to Charlotte as if expecting for her to say something, but her voice caught in her throat, a similar feeling to stage fright. Sensing her nerves, Rook waved for her to sit on the empty recliner by the fireplace, to which she accepted. 

Following her into the room, he sat beside her on the couch, staring forward into the fire that he must have lit before he met them, the dog curling beside it, ready to slumber. Charlotte picked at her fingernails, looking at the dog, something that Rook must have noticed. 

"Boomer. He's harmless - to the good guys, that is." Boomer's ears perked up at the mention of his name but didn't move and Charlotte nodded, relishing the heat of the fire. They sat for a moment, the silence only occupied by the crackling of the fire and the snores from Boomer before Charlotte broke it with an clearing of her throat. _Let's address the elephant in the room..._

"I'm sorry, about the convoy." Her voice cracked, making her feel like a pubescent child in front of the Principal to which Rook simply shrugged, Jess remained silent. 

"Not ya fault, Cookie. Had we had known that conditioning shit happened to you, would have gone a different route." He murmured, staring forward with his fingers clutched together, elbows resting on his knees. 

"You can make it up to us by telling us about your time with John." Jess's voice, clipped and indifferent, made Charlotte sit up, her hands automatically smoothening down her thighs, the scars he left on her skin, with a shudder. 

"Where do I start?" Her breath came out breathy, and she didn't realise how tired she was until she had reclined back into her seat, staring up at the ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing there was. 

"From the beginning." Rook laughed, as if he had made the best joke - his laugh was loud, infectious, and Charlotte couldn't help the sardonic giggle escape her throat in unison. Rolling her head to look at Rook, she ran a trembling hand through her hair, the long lengths having come loose during her escape from Seed Ranch that draped across her neck and chest like a curtain. 

"He was mad when I got there, roughed me up really good." She started, looking at the split ends of her hair with a frown. "Then, it got better. I just spent my time doing menial tasks, figuring out my next steps, and then you guys showed up--" 

"What information do you have that's important, Fleetwood?" Jess cut in, moving from her spot by the door to sit next to Rook, taking a similar seated position as she stared forward to Charlotte. She sighed, sweeping her hand through her hair once again before sitting forward, her hand stroking the sloth tattoo against her skin, almost soothingly. 

"Firstly, did Hudson get out?" She whispered, her voice flat - she was really fucking exhausted. Rook nodded, slipping a hand into his pocket and retrieving a radio, waving that to her like it was a treat.

"We got her out - your distraction helped us out, he didn't know what way was up by the time he made it to the bunker, Cook. Then, Jess radioed me to meet here, so." He smiled the same goofy smile she had come accustomed to before slipping the radio back into his jean pocket, clasping his hands in front of him. Charlotte felt her body relax before nodding, allowing a small smile to spread across her face. 

"Information, Fleetwood." Jess clicked at her, impatient and Charlotte sat back, kicking her shoes off from underneath her and curling up within the recliner. 

"There isn't much information I can provide, he was pretty tight-lipped on the whole operation. I mean, the only thing I can think of is John is having a fling with a girl named Holly, which I was halfway through trying to sabotage before you guys came to the rescue. She's...pregnant." As soon as she spoke the words, Charlotte felt an overwhelming guilt flood her and the smile dropped from her face. This wasn't important information, this shouldn't have been said in the first place - _it wasn't something for me to tell._

Rook let out a low whistle and Jess's frown somehow deepened, to the point which shouldn't be humanly possible. Rook clapped with a laugh and stood up from the couch, walking towards a cooler nearby and kicking it open with his foot, bending to pick up three beers.

"Now isn't that juicy." He laughed, handing both women a bottle before popping the cap off of one himself. Sitting back down, he took a swig before reclining back further, arm draped behind Jess who sat still, twiddling the bottle between her hands, thinking. 

"She's innocent enough, but, yeah. Other than that, I was mostly just there as stress relief for John." 

"Stress relief, huh?" Rook winked, his smile turning sly, causing the blood to flood back into Charlotte's face like an avalanche. Waving her hands and almost spilling the beer in the process, she tried to backtrack but her voice wouldn't come out, and the other two occupants smiled and laughed at her panic. Feeling like she couldn't get out of the situation, she took a deep swig of the beer in her hands, choosing to stare into the fireplace to avoid further embarrassment. She watched the flicker of the fire, almost bringing her back into a daze before she remembered another tid bit of information. 

"Jacob is also at Seed Ranch - was, at Seed Ranch. I don't know if he's still there." Jess let out a low growl, and if Charlotte couldn't see Boomer, she would have thought it was from him, to which Rook signed and hushed her. 

"He is probably half way to the Whitetails by now." Charlotte continued, taking another sip of beer, not entirely believing her own statement. Jacob had a weird attachment for her, she knew that, and she also knew he had no intention of letting her go. Blinking, she looked towards the bordered windows, wondering if he was standing there, listening, watching - waiting for her. There was something primitive about Jacob that she was attracted to - he was a fucking psychopath, definitely her biggest pet peeve about the guy, but he triggered something deep within her, something she wasn't even sure existed until her first encounter with him.

Then there was John, also one sick son of a bitch. When he was a _total fucking dick_ , he was a _total fucking dick_ , but when he was sincere, cared, he acted as if you were the most important thing in the world. Charlotte definitely had a classic case of middle child syndrome, so when he treated her like that, she felt warm, happy - special. He made her feel special, another thing that she didn't know she wanted until it happened.

However, the one thing that Charlotte had to keep reiterating to herself, was that both men were leaders in a _fucking cult_ and were both _fucked in the head_. 

Without warning, Charlotte's mind replayed her confrontation with Faith. _Coveted or possessed? Did she mean, John and Jacob?_ John coveted her, Jacob possessed her. Faith had implied that she could pick one or the other, or else she would die. It could have also been a total reach of a conclusion, considering she knew first hand how much Bliss could fuck with your head, but like pieces of a jigsaw, Charlotte found herself thinking of both men, the premonition clicking into place. It felt ominous, she felt trapped.

Broken out of her reverie by a loud yawn from Rook, she closed her eyes, sinking into the old recliner once more to catch some sleep. Tomorrow would be better.

* * *

When she awoke, she was alone within the tiny cabin, sunlight streaming through the cracks between the wooden panels barring the windows. Stretching out, Charlotte smoothened her hair down, groaning at the sharp aches within her from sleeping uncomfortably, and from her escape the day prior. Standing up, she walked around the cabin, noticing a radio and a note poised against an energy drink on the kitchen counter. Rook's scrawl, written in thick permanent marker, was eligible enough from across the room - _stay put_. 

Cracking open the energy drink, she took a sip and frowned at the strong taste, it had been awhile since she had one of these, before began to snoop around her surroundings. The silence of the cabin was calming as she palmed a nearby bookshelf, reading the titles - it was all hunting books, nothing she would have ever read before Hope County, but it was something to pass the time. Sliding one of the books out, she walked to the kitchen counter, taking the radio in one hand, and the book in the other to lie down on the deep brown couch that Rook and Jess had occupied only hours earlier.

Fluffing a pillow and placing it under her head, she took another sip of her drink, placing it on the floor and the radio on her lap before reclining back, tucking her hair over the edge of the couch and flipping open a page, only for her radio to crackle to life.

" _Deputy_." John's voice echoed around the cabin from the radio, loud enough that she thought he was in the room, causing her to freeze, staring forward at the page in front of her like she had been caught. "You _stole_ something of mine, _two things actually_." He crooned and Charlotte flicked the radio off of her lap like it was infected.

"Did I now? I am _so sorry_ , _Jonathan._ " Rook's voice crooned back, saccharine to the point where Charlotte knew the mere tone would be enough to piss John off. The Baptist let out a low laugh, a warning before the radio rustled. Charlotte could picture him gripping the radio, grinding his teeth to keep himself at bay. 

"Deputy, you can have Hudson back, but I'd really appreciate my little cook to come home." Charlotte sat back up, flinging her legs over the side of the couch and staring forward at the radio, her skin tightening with anticipation. He wanted her back. Why?

"I don't think ya need a cook, Jonathan, you've certainly packed on the pounds enough." Charlotte gaped at the radio, her hand covering her mouth. _This motherfucker has a fucking death wish._

"Now, now, Deputy, that's not very nice--"

"Besides Jonathan, she's been keeping me company - did you know she was a cuddler?" Silence filled the air, the radio going dead and Charlotte felt her face flush with embarrassment. Sure, Rook was definitely fucking lying, she was a cuddler, sure, but he did _not_ know that. She surmised that this angle that Rook was taking was just to wind up John, but in turn, would mean if John got his hands back on her, she would be fucking _dead_. 

Running her hands through her hair for the millionth time, she stood up and began to pace in front of the radio, taking deep breaths before it crackled back to life.

"The Father knows where you are, _Deputy_ and I cannot wait for you to reach atonement. I will personally ensure that you do--"

"Speaking of fathers, congratulations by the way." 

"I will peel the skin from your-- what?" Charlotte stood still, frozen in place, mouth open in horror as she stared at the radio. The information was private, and she did not expect him to broadcast it across the whole fucking county the day after she received said information. _John is going to fucking kill me, oh my fucking God._ _Holly is going to kill me, he's going to kill Holly, oh my fucking God._

"Bet Joseph didn't see that coming. See ya later Jonathan, I got fish to fry, gotta look after my little woman at home, she's hungry." Charlotte had enough, fumbling towards the radio and clicking it off, throwing it across the room and relishing as it hit the wall with a crack. Not the smartest move, but her nerves were fried, she was frazzled, she needed to get the fuck out of Hope County before she got dragged back into this shit storm. Walking towards the door, she twisted the doorknob and groaned, finding it locked. Pressing her head to the door, she clenched her fist and punched it, her anxiety working itself up to an 11.

Even when John was torturing her, she was not this nervous, but she knew what was happening. She had no control here, and she hated it. _I need to get out of here_ , _Rook has painted a fucking bigger target on my back_. Stepping backwards away from the door, she took a deep breath in and out, attempting to clear her thoughts, but when that didn't work, she kicked the door, the force sending a shockwave up her calf that she wasn't prepared for. 

Walking towards her sneakers, she pulled them on with a huff before beginning to search the drawers of the cabin, pouring utensils onto the floor as she looked for anything, _anything_ that could get her out of the cabin, _before John and Jacob find me_. In her haste, there was footsteps at the front door and the doorknob twisted, Rook himself stepping in with fish on a line, tucked over his shoulder. Charlotte stormed to him, throwing punches at him before he had the chance to speak, her tiny fists thumping against his chest as he stumbled from shock.

"Woah, Cook--?"

"Why the _fuck did you tell him that shit?_ " Charlotte's voice entered an unnatural screech, one that she wasn't even sure previously that she was capable of and Rook laughed, shutting the door and pushing past her as he walked to the counter, picking up a knife on the floor and flopping the fish onto the counter, poised to gut it. If he cared about the mess she made, he didn't seem to care as he began to slice open the fish, blood oozing onto the counter. 

"Gotta distract him, keep him hyped up." He said, smile never leaving his face as he worked. Charlotte gaped at him, at the fish, and then back at him before picking up a nearby book and hurling it at him. He ducked to the side with a laugh, his canines glinting and never stopped working. 

"Do you know what you've done?" The tremble in her voice caused Rook's smile to drop and for him to finally look at her, look at her panic, and put the knife down. His eyebrows creased as he regarded her, confusion deep within his brown eyes as her chest heaved. 

"Charlotte, what is it you're not telling me?" He murmured, bloodied hands gripping the counter as he leaned forward over the fish. She didn't know what to exactly say, so she breathed in once again, steeling herself and crossing her arms in front of her.   
  
"John-- and Jacob, they want me to themselves, why? I don't fucking know. You piping up and pulling the jealousy tactic not only puts yourself in danger, but me as well. Holly, as well." She stared forward, her nails digging into her arms to steel herself. 

"I want to go home, Rook - alive. You are preventing me from doing that." She whispered, a calm flowing through her as she finally spoke the issue as to why she was upset, a realisation that felt almost as new to her as it was to him. She wanted to live. Previously, she wanted to die - what changed? _Make up your mind, Charlotte._ Rook nodded, grabbing a nearby rag and wiping his hands of the blood littered over his fingers before walking around the counter, wrapping Charlotte into a one-sided bear hug, stroking her back like a father would a child. 

"I'll get you home, Charlotte. If it's the last thing I do." Her eyes welled in the sincerity, as she allowed herself to relax into his embrace, tears falling for the first time in so long.


	19. Go Time

Charlotte spent the next few days holed up within the cabin, the (now broken) radio still sitting by the far wall of Rook's cabin, a reminder of her guilt for having lashed out at the man who was just trying to help her. She sat on the couch, staring forward at it as she picked the skin around her nails, a sound of a clock ticking on a far wall. She had read almost every single book in the vicinity, had cleaned, had showered, had even cleaned the multitude of weapons that Rook had left on the kitchen counter, but she had reached her breaking point - she was _bored_. 

All Charlotte was left with was her thoughts at this point, blinking the dryness from her eyes as she caught herself daydreaming once again. This time, she was just daydreaming about going outside, getting into a car and driving away, the wind blowing through her hair, the cold breeze filtering against her face on a cloudless day, the sun barring down at her as if saying goodbye, bidding her farewell as she made her way out. If only it were that simple.

Sighing, she stood up and relished the click in her kneecaps, pulling her hair out from the bun on top of her head, letting the loose curls cascade over her shoulders - it now had reached her lower back, a length she never thought she could have achieved, ever, and she spun around, watching her hair whirl around her, a small smile settling on her face at the motion. Walking to the window and peeking through one of the boards, she looked outside, relishing the sunshine she could get a view of, feeling like Rapunzel herself, waiting inside her tower. Rook was approaching with a deer hauled over his shoulder, as if it weighed nothing, with Boomer at his heels. Charlotte looked up at the clock, 4.30pm - right on schedule.

Stepping back and walking into the kitchen, Charlotte leaned against the counter, watching the doorknob jiggle before Rook let himself in, Boomer rushing straight to her with a happy yip, jumping up against her legs as she leaned down to scratch behind his ears. Rook sent her a huge smile before strolling through the door and dumping the deer onto the kitchen counter, before kicking the door shut with the heel of his boot. 

Charlotte frowned at the deer, blood beginning to ooze onto the counter, the one she had scrubbed venomously only hours earlier before folding her arms and sending Rook a look, eyebrow raised. Catching her look, he held up his hands - bloodied - in surrender before he retrieved a hunting knife from his pocket, it's silver shine glinting under the candle light of the room. Silence sat comfortably between them as Charlotte watched Rook work, the smell of iron poisoning the air as Boomer curled on top of the couch, settling into a slumber of light snores. 

"So...how was hunting?" Charlotte chirped, and Rook looked up at her with his own eyebrow raised before shaking his head, a laugh gurgling up from his throat. 

"Cook, if you got something to say, just say it." Punctuating his sentence by tearing the skin off of the deer further, Charlotte flinched before letting out a deep sigh.

"When can I leave?"

"Hope County or the cabin?" 

"Both, I guess." Rook sighed himself before putting down the hunting knife, leaning forward on his hands in front of the counter, facing her, eyes conveying some sort of pity, or guilt, she couldn't exactly work it out, before he addressed her again.

"There are a few things darlin' that I got to work out before we can get you out of here. You're safe here." She felt her frown deepen again before tucking her hair behind her ear, the scowl fixed upon her face. She didn't want to appear ungrateful, she was incredibly grateful for the help from Rook, but being inside, she felt useless. In her mind, she was either better off outside of Hope County or at least being used with the skill set she had--

_Skill set? Cooking and laundry?_

Skill set - bitch, you made a bomb, and you got (kind of) trained by Jacob.

_Yeah, but Pinky isn't here to back that up, is she?_

Pinky. She hadn't thought of her since she had left St Francis, and she felt another wave of guilt permeate her heart. Pinky, the annoying red head with crystalline green eyes, pale skin and freckles in abundance. Sometimes Charlotte would hear her laugh throughout her conscious, never mocking, only genuine and poor. She was on the wrong side, sure, but she was a lovely girl, and she died because of Charlotte. How many people died because of Charlotte?

"But you know, there are bigger things we gotta worry about, darl--" Without further thought, cutting Rook off in mid-sentence, she stuttered.

"I want to help." Refocusing back on Rook, who looked at her with surprise, he nodded slowly, taking in her sudden determination with apprehension. 

"Help with...?" 

"Stuff. Anything. If I'm not getting out of here any time soon, at least make me useful." Rook held a blank face for a moment before the grin split across his face faster than humanly possible, an unmistakable sparkle in his brown eyes making him childlike with excitement. It gave Charlotte a feeling almost reminiscent to the girl he liked saying yes for prom. 

"Can you shoot a gun?" He picked up the hunting knife he previously held and continued to pull the skin off of the deer and she nodded. 

"Jacob tried to train me." _Pinky trained me_. 

"Good - so you have some idea of protecting yourself, I suppose." _Pinky trained me_. The red-haired laugh echoed in her subconscious once again, sending chills up Charlotte's spine. She nodded once again as Rook rolled his shoulders backwards before tilting his neck to and fro between them, an audible click echoing throughout the wooden walls of the cabin. 

"You aint got your little book this time, Cookie. Can't plan shit if you roll with me." _I stabbed a man in the neck on my way out of St Francis, I blew up the building, I threw a bomb into the shed at Seed Ranch, I can do anything._

"I can do anything." The words seemed foreign on her tongue, same with the confidence she held, and that is what caught Rook's attention. Looking up at her from his bent position, he gave her a thumbs up, alongside a coy smile, all white teeth, seemingly charming although there was an animal corpse in front of him, and Charlotte felt her heart inflate with what she could only dissertate to be excitement. 

* * *

So, Rook's idea of a plan for her re-entrance into Hope County society was to throw her into the deep end, as it so turned out.

Green-Busch Fertilizer Company was currently under Cult control, and was a hub - as per Rook - to get back for the Resistance. With the map spread out in front of her and Rook, the now dismembered deer having been relocated elsewhere, Rook pointed at the location on the map, going over the control point with the intel that they had. His plan was to sneak in, past the guards, disable the alarm and to then pick off the cultists one by one, and Charlotte felt a nervous energy well up within her gut. Nervousness, or excitement? She couldn't really place it.

Rook began to pile his ammunition into a duffle bag while she anxiously waited, foot tapping against the wooden flooring of the cabin, the clothes that Jess had left behind for her sticking to her like a second skin. She redid and double tied her boot laces just in case and made sure her jeans were tucked into her boots, little things she remembered from Pinky fleetingly. Rolling up her flannel sleeves, Charlotte caught her reflection in the mirror and readjusted her hair, making sure it was as tight as possible against her scalp and tucked into a beanie she had procured from one of the drawers of the cabin whilst smoothening down her flannel shirt with a heavy sigh. 

She watched in the mirror as Rook rounded the counter of the kitchen and placed a heavy, warm hand on her shoulder, giving her a sharp nod that she returned - it was go time. Following him out the door, Boomer latched onto their heels, Charlotte took in the midnight air, finally feeling it flush against her skin in what felt like forever, breathing it in deeply and filling her lungs. The night was alive with the churn of crickets and other creatures as their feet crunched in unison against the gravel towards an ATV, already running and light aglow. Rook stepped on first, tucking the duffle bag in between his legs and patted the seat behind him, Charlotte felt her face flush slightly before tucking herself behind him and looping her arms around his waist and before she was settled, they were on the move through the trees. 

Resting her forehead against his shoulder, she closed her eyes, willing her thoughts to stick to the plan, remembering this was her decision to go along with. She was making herself useful to the good guys, in whatever way she could. Charlotte ignored the lurch within her stomach as the ATV darted along the forest floor and kept her eyes closed, not even opening them when she felt the woolen beanie begin to slip off of her head from the momentum, or when Boomer would yip sporadically during their journey.

For what felt like hours, when realistically, it was most likely half the time, Charlotte felt the ATV grind to a halt, the humming of it's engine shutting off and felt Rook's shoulders flex out of her death grip. She released him, stepping off the ATV and feeling like her legs had turned to jelly. _Now isn't the time to get nervous._

Rook stood off the ATV, duffle bag slung across his broad shoulders and in the moonlight, Charlotte could make out his makeshift grin, a thumbs up poised in her direction. She returned it and looked around, noting that there was nothing but trees within sight, and she looked back to Rook, confused, but he had already begun to walk away in the opposite direction. Charlotte scurried after him, relying more on the sound of his footsteps due to lack of sight as they began to navigate through the foliage. Of course they wouldn't just roll up to the front door of the place, especially just two of them.

Eventually, after many stumbles over unseen rocks and debris on Charlotte's behalf, distant lights began to flicker between the tree line and Rook's previously fast pace began to slow, eventually coming to a halt in nearby bushes around Green-Busch. Charlotte crouched next to him and stared forward, looking at Cultists walking around the vicinity, their rifles perched over their shoulders, and the ominous red dot of the sniper from the roof. Something cold to the touch and heavy was pushed into her palm as she crouched, the weight familiar and she turned to Rook who simply smiled. She thanked him with a nod, pocketing the pistol into her pants, ensuring the safety was off first with a trained hand. 

"Show time." Rook muttered and with a soft whistle, both him and Boomer moved to another brush of foliage to Charlotte's right, leaving her all alone, a sudden feeling of stage fright falling over her as he walked away. Palming the handle of the pistol in one hand, she took a deep breath and waited for the sniper to turn around before sprinting forward, her boots silent as she paced herself towards a dark corner of the building. The more she drew closer, the more aware she felt as if she were out of her depth, like this was a mission that was much bigger than her, but it was too late to back out now.

Within the dark corner of the side of the building, she crouched, looking around the corner and attempting to spot the green glow of the alarm, something that should stand out within the darkness, which is what Rook told her and she frowned, not seeing anything but the obnoxious red of the building and crates of goods stacked in large storage containers on top of each other. Pressing herself back into the wall, she huffed, a piece of hair that had come loose from her bun tickled her nose in the motion before she turned back around, eyes peering around the corner of the wall. A distant bark reverberated around the area and she felt herself freeze - Rook was already on the move. 

Spotting another dark area between a few storage containers, she looked around briefly before sprinting towards it, almost tripping over her own two feet in her momentum half way before skidding to a halt behind the open door of one of the containers. She rounded the corner and continued to walk around the area, checking each corner with caution before she made her leap behind obstacles. Finally, as she crouched behind a broken down vehicle, she spotted the alarm, glowing within the distance by the front of the building, only for it to be guarded by not one but two guards. She sighed, palming the pistol in her hands, a tirade of options running through her mind. _Shoot, or not shoot. That is the question._

Standing up slightly with her hand poised on the pistol, a glint of silver caught her eye from within the vehicle she was taking refuge behind, spotting a crow bar laying innocently in the back seat. Letting go of the firearm in her pocket, she tried the door of the car and smiled, clicking open the door with ease and reaching for the crow bar quietly. Unfortunately, although the door was easy to open, she had issues closing it, a squeak of rust screamed through the area like nails on a chalkboard as she tried to quietly shut it. Cursing, she peeped up and noticed it had caught the attention of the guards, one making their way over cautiously, and she wanted to punch herself in the face.

With a panic, she palmed the crow bar and kept her gaze trained on the approaching guard, backpedaling behind the back of the vehicle as he turned to inspect the door. As he began to walk around the car, Charlotte walked to the front, thankful the other guard was not paying attention as she rounded on the one inspecting the noise. He stood looking at the open door of the car, scratching the back of his head, and Charlotte took the moment to raise the crow bar above her and to swing it down on his temple, something pretty difficult for her stature of 5'2, especially compared to his already tall stature. 

He yelped, and Charlotte wasted no time in bringing the crow bar down once again, and again, pummeling him as hard but as quietly as she could, a wet heat splattering her face each time the crow bar connected with his skin, only stopping once she had heard the crunch of bone and she sat back on her ass, breathing through her nose heavily, her thumb rhythmically moving alongside the side of the wet crow bar as she willed herself to keep her head on straight. Sitting back up, she looked around the end of the car and noticed the previous guard still loitering around the alarm and she cursed once again. 

Picking up a rock, she tested it's weight before she hurled it in his direction, watching it soar by his feet, catching his attention. She watched him frown under the yellow lights of the area and look towards the car before he slowly paced himself in that direction. Now that she knew what to do, she aimed to repeat her last take down, keeping an eye on his walk as she slowly paced herself around the car as he rounded it. It took a moment for him to register the body of his colleague, and in that span of time, Charlotte repeated the swing of the crow bar, only this time she didn't hit him in the temple, but in the neck, a sickening crunch and gasp erupted from the man as he gripped his wound. Charlotte tried to pull the crow bar away for a second swing but couldn't, his hands gripped the edge that was still impaled in his neck. 

With a kick to the stomach from his boot, Charlotte doubled over and gripped her gut, the pain from her last injury erupting in full force once again as the man tore the crow bar out from his neck and tackled her to the ground. Charlotte felt her teeth grind as his hands gripped her neck, desperate to not make a noise as she scratched his arms, his torso, anything she could get her hands on, as blood from his wound trickled down his arms and onto her. 

"You fucking bitch." His voice was a mere whisper in the darkness, the wound to his neck must have done more damage than she thought as she continued to kick and fight. Darkness began to fold on her vision as she struggled, and it wasn't until he released her suddenly that she had opened her eyes. The guard had sat up, and from the darkness, she could see the handle of a screwdriver poised from his temple. He slumped down on top of her and she scrambled, desperately attempting to kick him off. 

"Woah, woah, woah, Cookie. It's all over now." Rook pulled the body off of her with a laugh and handed out his arm to her and she stared at it, confused. 

"What do you mean?" She whispered, rubbing her neck tentatively. Rook pulled Charlotte up regardless of whether or not she wanted to take up his offer and brushed her off, Boomer at her heels, happily yipping at the two. She looked around the area, noting the alarm was now red (and sparking) and the lights were now an obnoxious white. Bodies littered the area everywhere, the sniper was hanging upside down from a rope in front of the building. While she barely managed to take out two people, Rook had decimated the place with ease. 

"...you did all of this?" She muttered, and Rook looked on, his posture straight and face full of pride as he nodded.

"How?" She muttered and he gave her a shrug before walking towards the building, and towards his duffle bag he had sat in front of the alarm. Charlotte followed behind him, feet dragging against the gravel and she clutched her ribs, finally letting out the groan she was holding in. Rook fished out his radio and muttered into it, and the blonde watched him talk, animated and excited, flailing arms and dramatics - _just like John--_. 

_No, you're not going to think about John_. 

Next to the alarm, Charlotte crouched down and sat down, splaying her legs out and breathing in deeply, the smell of iron once again painting the insides of her mouth and nose. Leaning over, she fished out a water bottle from the duffle bag and sipped its contents, before spitting it next to her. Anything to get rid of the smell, the taste, that seemed to never stop permeating around her. Charlotte looked up at the sky, the moon shone down at her with the stars, and she relished in the shock and indifference that seemed to reside within her. She felt calm, eerily so, and it bothered her. She killed a man today, assisted in killing another. _They were bad men, this was for the good of the Resistance_.

If this was for the good of the Resistance, why did she feel bad?

Her Grandmother's voice crooned within her minds eye, the rehearsed passage about murder from the bible resonating within her and Charlotte closed her eyes, attempting to drown out the words with the sound of crickets, the sound of Boomer barking and approaching vehicles along the gravel. A hand on her shoulder brought her out of her day dream as she stared forward into Rook's eyes, he looked at her with a soft smile. 

"You did good today, Cookie." She smiled back at him, but couldn't truly reciprocate his words. She didn't feel guilty, she didn't feel happy, she didn't feel anything. 

With a trembling hand, Charlotte traced the sloth tattoo along her forearm. Perhaps this was her sin after all.

* * *


	20. Together Again

Joining in Rook's crusade across Holland Valley made the days she previously would count the minutes for sweep by, she wasn't sure how many weeks it had been while she toured the area with him, sweeping through various cult holdings and driving them out, the invaders scattering quickly with their tails in between their legs. From her first experience with taking over Green-Busch with Rook, Charlotte knew she had a lot to learn, and that she couldn't be slow if she was going to help them. Sure, she took down 1.5 people, but that was not enough, she had to be stronger than that. 

She had to make Pinky proud, regardless of the team she was fighting on.

While working with Rook and meeting his fellow compatriots, Charlotte began to adapt and learn from them, and grow with them. As the weeks melded together and as she worked closely with the Crew, she could feel the barrier she kept high around her begin to drift away, and she began to feel comfortable - hell, she began to feel happy. It was an odd feeling to have, only having the opportunity to be happy for fleeting moments throughout the months, so she relished in every interaction she had that made her happy, and that was working with the Resistance. 

Sitting at the Spread Eagle in Fall's End, she smiled to Mary May who sent her a sly wink, putting another opened beer in front of her. Charlotte sighed and took a sip, the cool liquid burning her throat as she relaxed into the bar stool, Hudson sitting nearby, nursing her own beer while she spoke to Rook in hushed tones as they crowded around a map of the county. She left them to their own business, if they wanted her input, they would ask. 

Mary May leaned forward on the bar counter, catching Charlotte's attention as she reached forward and pulled Charlotte's arm gently across, examining the tattoo of Sloth sketched into her arm. Mary May had become quite a close confidant for Charlotte over the last few weeks, having been similar in age and allowing Charlotte to stay in the room above the Spread Eagle at no extra cost, so Charlotte was comfortable enough to have bartender examine the ink littered across her skin.

She didn't say anything at first, only just looked at the tattoo with an odd look that Charlotte couldn't quite place. 

"Pretty fitting for me, don't you think?" Breaking the silence, Charlotte smiled, taking another sip of her beer and breaking Mary May out of her own thoughts. The bartender released her arm and stepped back a few steps, choosing to lean against the counter there to regard Charlotte with a shrug.

"It's the first time you've showed it, hun - didn't know you had one." She muttered, picking up a rag nearby to begin cleaning glasses in a languid motion just to keep busy. Charlotte nodded, looking at where she had rolled her sleeve up and staring into the ink herself. It was one gift from John that she couldn't ever give back, as much as she wanted to. 

"What happened? With you and him?" Mary May hummed, not looking up from her task of cleaning. Charlotte felt her face flush slightly before she could stop it, anxiously unrolling her sleeve down to cover the tattoo, even though she felt like she was in a sauna within the bar. She took another sip before answering, considering what she was going to say.

"I was basically a maid, a cook - just a woman to run around and maintain his castle for him." Charlotte muttered into the lip of her beer, watching Mary May nod, satisfied with her answer.

"Pretty girl like you, thought he would have put the moves on ya, hun." Mary May sent her a sly smile as she placed a glass down, picking up a new one to clean with the rag as Charlotte coughed awkwardly into the lip of her beer bottle before shaking her head and taking another swig. 

"I'm not that pretty..." Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her trademark move for awkward situations, she looked to her right, away from Mary May and regarded Hudson and Rook as they continued to pour over the map in front of them. Mary May followed her eye sight and laughed, putting the glass down and swinging the flannel over her shoulder before leaning on the bar counter in front of Charlotte. 

"They're fucking, hun - I don't think you've got a chance." She giggled in a hushed tone, Charlotte spun around to face her once again, mouth open agape. 

"What? No! I'm not-- they're not my type -- no, I wasn't--" She stuttered, arms raised and flailing in an attempt to convince Mary May otherwise, who only just giggled more.

"Just fuckin' with ya, settle down love. You're too easy to rile up!" Mary May leaned over and lightly punched Charlotte's shoulder, who pretended it hurt and rubbed it, glaring at Mary May but unable to keep the smile off of her face. Finishing off her beer, Charlotte stood up and dusted her jeans of imaginary dust, making her way to the stairs leading up to her room before a wolf whistle caught her attention. Pausing in mid-step, she turned and spotted Rook and Hudson looking at her, Rook gesturing for her to come over with a two finger salute. 

With an over-the-top sigh, enough to make Rook smile at her, she walked over to the duo, her boots clattering against the old wood flooring of the bar. Hudson smiled at her approach, and looked at Rook -- oh, _now_ she could what Mary May was talking about. Slipping her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, she stood in front of Rook and Hudson, eyebrows raised as she waited for them to stop staring at one another before Rook turned to her, his chirpy persona dropping within an instant.

"Listen here, Cookie, I gotta go to the Henbane - got some shit I gotta do." Straight to the point, just like how Charlotte liked it. She nodded, gaze drifting over the map in front of her, little post its here and there sticking on it, black ink littering the page.

"I'm gonna need you to hold the fort with the others here." Charlotte frowned at his choice of words, looking between Hudson and Rook before slowly nodding once again, taking in his words. Sensing her confusion - (it was pretty obvious) - Hudson stepped in, her voice taking a low pitch as if it was important information to be shared between only the three of them.

"We're going to find Whitehorse, our Sheriff. Gone a couple days, maybe a week, tops." She smiled at Charlotte before looking to Rook to continue. A warm hand gripped Charlotte's shoulder, Rook's hand, as he smiled down at her, a toothy grin as always. 

"The boys here will be easily able to look after themselves, but if the time comes, I know you got their back, Charlotte." 

"Why are you telling me this, Rook?" Charlotte muttered, her hands moving from her pockets to remove his hand from her shoulder. His smile faded into a small smirk before going away completely, a somber look taking over his features, somber and Rook don't belong together. He looked towards Hudson and back to Charlotte with a deep sigh, before he patted her head, just like a father would a child. Charlotte frowned further, batting away his hand.

"I'm not gonna be around forever, Charlotte. I don't plan on dying soon, but if something happens to me, I know you'll do the right thing and stick with us, help us. Till the end." Charlotte felt her eyes dry a little bit, a tall tell sign that her eyes were due to well up from the sincerity of his tone. She sniffed, blinking her eyes a few times before nodding, a nervous smile spreading across her face. His smile came back in full force before he nodded back to her, ruffling her ruined hair and shoo-ing her away towards the stairs. 

Walking up to her room, Charlotte regarded Rook's words, picking them apart bit by bit in excruciating detail. She couldn't help but feel like Rook knew something was going to happen, but what? Did he not trust her? After all that had happened between them? Charlotte opened the door to her room with a sigh, closing the door behind her and sitting at a small table in the corner of the room, staring out through the window overlooking the street from the bar. 

Bending low to undo her bootstraps, she couldn't help but feel intimidated by Rook's words, unable to determine if he was threatening her or reassuring her, her mind a myriad of different scenarios, some as ridiculous as the next. Kicking off her boots and curling her toes in relief, she sat back and stared once again out the window, watching as Rook and Hudson made their way across the street. She watched as Rook pulled something out of his pocket and muttered into it, a radio, as they continued their way down the road, unaware of Charlotte's prying gaze. As soon as they disappeared from view, Charlotte turned to the table in front of her, her own gaze landing on her radio, one that she rarely turned on. 

Leaning forward, she flicked on the power, a man's voice echoing throughout the quiet of her room before she had a chance to turn it down. From the tone, she could work out that it was Sharky, a man she had only had the pleasure of meeting once or twice. Cringing, she lowered the volume, listening in to the man talking, leaning forward on crossed arms on the table, forehead pressed against the cold vinyl of the counter. 

"Yeah but dude, I ain't sure if it's a good idea and what not to go prancin' in the Henbane after the shit Johnbo Jones pulled, comprende? You know he be threatenin' Falls End and shit, right homeboy?" Charlotte sat up at this with a frown, her stomach dropping into her abdomen in an instant. Sharky received a huff - Rook - and Charlotte leaned forward, pitching the volume back up on the radio.

"It's fine, Sharky boy, we got the best of the best lookin' after Fall's End." 

"Yeah, I know that, Dep, but y'know, I ain't the best leader, Hurk ain't either no matter how much he thinks he is--"

"Cookie's there. She got ya all covered." Charlotte felt her eyes widen, puffing her cheeks and pinching her leg to make sure she wasn't dreaming, the radio becoming a distant buzz in the background of her mind as it began to whirl. _Cookie's there, she's got ya all covered. Cookie's there, she's got ya all covered._

He wasn't threatening her, he was telling her he trusted her, to do the right thing and to help. A sense of pride welled up in her lungs and she couldn't stop the spread of her smile creak across her face. She was finally useful. Clicking off the radio, no longer interested in the conversation, she regarded the setting sun outside, unable to keep herself from smiling. If that is what Rook trusted her to do in his absence, that was what she was going to do.

* * *

Rook left that evening with Hudson with nothing more than a duffle bag and a few beers for the road, giving the townsfolk in the bar a two finger salute, his signature, as he waltzed out the door, as if he wasn't going to cause an abundance of chaos in the Henbane. A few days had past and Charlotte kept to herself in her room, only venturing out to speak to Mary May or to get food, or both. Constantly, she had the radio in her pocket, something she wouldn't normally do, but from hearing Rook's admission, she couldn't help but stay glued to it. 

If anything happened, she was going to help, she had to be ready for it. 

A soft knock bought her out of her daze as she laid on her bed, and she sat up, brushing down her blonde locks as Mary May opened the door and peeped inside, giving Charlotte a slight wave. Charlotte smiled at her, eyebrow raised, as Mary May never came up to her room. The bartender opened the door fully and placed her hands on her hips, puckering her lips in a smirk. 

"You wanna make some burgers, hun?" As if on cue, a grumble escaped Charlotte's stomach and she looked at the window, noticing the light in the day growing dimmer. Blinking, confused at how fast her day went from doing nothing, she sat up and put on her boots, following Mary May down the stairs as the bartender continued to chat away, walking into the kitchen with music blaring. Walking through the swinging door, she walked to the sink as if on auto pilot and began scrubbing her hands, just like how a surgeon would before surgery. Mary May joined her with a laugh, washing her own hands before bumping her hip next to Charlotte's. 

"I forgot that this was your thing back in the day." Charlotte smiled back and nodded, wringing her hands on a nearby clean towel - one she hoped was clean anyway before turning towards the kitchen counter, gripping a nearby chopping board and brushing off remnants of crumbs.

"In another life, long ago." She muttered as she reached for a red onion, the ingredients already placed on the counter by Mary May, and began to chop slices. Mary May filtered around the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out various items as they worked, prepping their own food for a slow work day. 

"So, John Seed's your type, huh?" The question was so out of the blue that Charlotte flinched in mid chop, slicing open her finger in the process. With a small hiss, she walked to the sink and began running it under water, ignoring the bubbly laughter coming from her companion. Charlotte looked over her shoulder and glared at Mary May who continued to giggle as she combined the ingredients for the burger meat. 

"Where the _fuck did that come from?_ " Charlotte hissed, indignant as she ran her finger under the cool stream of water. 

"Just playin' with ya sis, he's a piece of shit. You got standards. They're all pieces of shit." Charlotte turned back to examine her finger and avoid Mary May's gaze, a blush forming on her face. One that she felt was out of shame. 

"They're insane." She muttered into the water. Mary May hummed in agreement and a sordid silence took over the kitchen as they worked, one that perhaps only Charlotte felt affected by. In an attempt to move past it, she took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face, whirling around. 

"Besides, I like my men tall and bulky, he ain't it." Mary May smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners as she let out a laugh, nodding in agreement as she began to mold the burger patties into disc shapes. Charlotte picked up a nearby tea towel and covered her hand, walking towards a shelf to search for a first aid kit. A tap on her shoulder made her spin around and Mary May held out a band-aid to her, which she accepted gratefully. 

Returning to her spot at the counter, Charlotte picked up the knife and chopping board, taking it back to the sink to clean off any remnants of blood she may had left before Mary May spoke up once again, her tone quiet, which was unusual for her. 

"I wish I had met you before all of this, hun. This shit, this cult, this fucking town, we didn't deserve it, and you didn't either." Charlotte looked over her shoulder, watching as Mary May worked, not looking up from her task. Heart to heart conversations with the bartender weren't common, and this had come out of nowhere. The smaller blonde set the knife and chopping board down, walking towards Mary May and wrapping her arms around the bartender's much taller frame, feeling her stiffen under the action. Hugging wasn't necessarily a thing Charlotte did either, but from Mary May's posture, her tone, it was perhaps one of the only things that Charlotte could do.

"It's gonna be okay, you'll see." The small blonde muttered into Mary May's shirt, the flannel feeling rough against her cheek before stepping away, releasing the taller blonde with a small smile. Mary May blinked a few times before she looked at Charlotte and gave her a small smile. Satisfied, Charlotte stepped away, intending to walk back to the sink before the ground began to shake under their feet. Deep pops echoing through the quiet of the town before a loud one burst through the building, debris ripping through the kitchen as Mary May and herself scrambled to get under the kitchen counter for cover. 

"What the fuck?" Mary May screeched, reaching for a nearby shotgun that Charlotte didn't even notice was taped under the ridge of the counter. The smaller blonde leapt up and fumbled to get her radio out of her pocket, switching it on as she examined the kitchen and then looked out the window, watching as cult vehicles began to speed through the center of town, cultists screaming, waving around-- _was that a fucking grenade launcher?_

The radio in her hand blared to life, a voice she recognised as Nick Rye's reverberated through the roar of the chaos outside in their small domain. 

"We got those sons of bitches in the town, get ya guns. I got air." Charlotte looked at Mary May, who had begun to load the shotgun with shells. 

"Where's the stockpile?" Charlotte on a good day would have winced from the clipped tone she used, but no wasn't the time to be insecure. Mary May nodded towards the fridge as Charlotte scrambled towards it, pulling it from the wall with strength that still surprised her to this day. A siren began to echo from the street, a blaring one, similar to that from a video game Charlotte played as a child - _fucking Silent Hill bullshit_. It wailed through the town, causing both Mary May and Charlotte to still before it abruptly cut off, being replaced by the low croon from John Seed himself.

"Well, well, well, Fall's End, how are we this fine evening?" Charlotte felt a small fear weave through her gut, her fingers trembling slightly as his voice carried. 

"We've decided that for your best interest, we will be looking after your sweet humble town from this day forward, now that your fascist leader has relocated to the Henbane, of course temporarily." Charlotte ducked low, still pulling the fridge away from the wall before clambering into the crawl space behind it. She heard the click of Mary May's shot gun behind her as she made it through the crawl space into a small room, filled to the brim of duffel bags and ammunition. 

"They're coming, Charlotte, inside." Mary May whispered and Charlotte turned to watch her launch herself over to the fridge, beginning to close it behind her. 

"What the fuck are you--" Mary May shushed her as she pushed the fridge shut.

"There is another crawl space leading outside on the other side, go that way." Blinking as the light of the kitchen disappeared, Charlotte gripped one of the duffle bags, listening to Mary May shuffle around the kitchen, flinching at the sound of her shotgun going off.

"You fucking bitch!" A feminine grunt could be heard from within the kitchen, and Charlotte cursed, tucking the bag over her shoulder, regardless of its weight and beginning to shuffle as quietly, yet quickly as possible. Using her hands, she followed the wall of the room, padding down the wall and shuffling around the stockpile, desperately attempting to find the other opening Mary May mentioned. 

Soon enough, her hand connected with an iron loop, like a handle, and Charlotte pulled it down, a wooden opening appearing, distant light from the other side seeping through a second internal door. Shuffling forward, John's voice could be heard once again, as clear as day.

"Now, now, no more fighting, please - If you put down your guns, we will be happy to take you all under our wing." 

"Fuck you." A voice called out - Mary May. She let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding in hearing her voice, only giving her more motivation to move quicker. Gun fire rattled as Charlotte made her way through the crawl space, before pushing against the door leading outside. Peering through, she noted she was under the decking of the Spread Eagle as she deftly moved under it, army crawling, just like Pinky had taught her. _Just like how Pinky taught you--_

She shook Pinky's name out of her head, the rush of blood pumping through her ears at the motion before she looked around for an opening out from under the decking. John had thankfully stopped using the megaphone now, but his voice, still the actor, reverberated commandments from the center not so far away from the Spread Eagle. Reaching the side of the fencing of the decking, she peered through, spotting few people on their knees in the street, including Mary May while Nick battled above them, raining fire on other airplanes. It was a cacophony of violence, something she knew John loved. 

Spotting a similar metal loop across from her, Charlotte gripped the duffle bag and dragged herself forward, yanking open the flap to the side of the building, hidden from the view of the cultists in the street and shuffled out from under the decking, sprinting to the back of the Spread Eagle. Spotting an emergency fire escape, she lumbered up it, cringing as the duffle bag swung into the old metal railings, a clang echoing in the vicinity. She kept going, simultaneously praying no one heard her as she scaled up the fire escape before grasping the plastic plumbing pipe leading up to the roof. In the past, never in her dreams would she had done this, but this wasn't the old Charlotte.

This was the new Charlotte, and she was a fucking bad ass. 

Sliding forward on the roof on her belly, she looked over the ridge, reviewing the situation on the street. John was looming in the face of one of the townsfolk, gripping his chin in between his tattooed hands, his smile was full of teeth, the sharp smile she herself had faced more than once. Turning around, she dragged the duffle bag to her side and opened it, reviewing its contents with a careful hand, frowning as she gripped something large and unfamiliar in her hands. Pulling it out and peering at it, she could only stare at the monstrosity in front of her, Hurk's name painted along the side of it like a red omen.

A fucking rocket launcher. Having no time to figure it out completely, Charlotte took the ammunition from within the bag and began to slot it where she hoped it was meant to go, and hoped it was facing the right direction. _Stupid way to die, isn't it Cookie?_

"Shut up Rook, you're not here right now." She muttered, looking the rocket launcher over before she stood up, the weight of it uncomfortable on her shoulder. Peering through the scope, she lowered it to the crowd on the street, looking for the right place to aim and through the scope, she spotted a nearby cult car, engine still running. As if sensing her, she caught a familiar face staring at her from the periphery of the scope, seeing John looking directly up at her with a brief look of surprise, followed by disbelief, followed by anger taking over his features.

Unable to stop the grin from spreading across her face, she waggled her fingers of her free hand, reminiscent of how he would wave at her before she pulled the trigger. The force from the launcher knocked her off her feet as she flew backwards, head hitting the corrugated roof of the Spread Eagle, and through the ringing of her ears, she almost wondered if she had aimed it right, until a large explosion erupted from in front of her, a putrid smell of gas and fire filling the air in a black smoke.

Giving herself a mental pat on the back, she rolled her way to the direction of the fire escape, foregoing the pipe this time and jumping down, the rickety iron fumbling under her weight as she scaled down it. Jumping down, ground shock barely registering as she made contact, she sprinted towards the street, almost tripping on a body of a cult member, baseball bat laying nearby. She picked up the bat and twirled it as she walked, no ran, to the center of the street, observing the chaos she had created. 

John was running surrounded by Cultists towards the end of the road through town as Mary May and other members of the Resistance began to get the upper hand. A cultist launched herself forward, knife aimed at Charlotte who sidestepped her lunge and swung her bat, the sickening crack of bone almost satisfying at this point to her. Charlotte continued moving forward, continued running towards John's quickly diminishing group as Grace from a nearby roof took out a few of his safety circle with one shot. 

Another cultist ran towards Charlotte from the side, reloading his rifle, and she sprinted forward to him, aiming the bat low as it connected with his knee. He crumbled like paper to the concrete, screaming and only being silenced as the small blonde swung another blow to his temple, splattering her clothes, hands and even parts of her face. Still, she continued to move forward, sprinting towards John, ignoring the sounds of gunfire around her, the sounds of planes meeting their ends in the distance, metal upon metal and screeching to their demise in the farmland nearby. 

A black van sped along the road, drifting to the side as John and a few other cultists lumbered for the door handle which only made Charlotte sprint faster. From her peripheral, she could see bullets making indentations in the ground in front of her, then indenting in the van in front. Seeing the bullet holes, John stopped his escape, stumbling backward and falling as his ticket out of the situation went up in flames. Screams could be heard from within the van as she made her approach, the smell of burning human toxic in the air. 

The remaining cultists ran towards Charlotte as she neared and she could only swing, ducking and weaving between their desperate blows, her bat connecting with the temple of one and the ribs of another. John scrambled forward on his knees in an attempt to get a discarded gun from one of them, but it was too late. Charlotte stepped forward, bat against her shoulder as she kicked the gun away, staring down at John blankly before smiling.

"Welcome home, honey." She whispered and swung, relishing the look of shock on his face before he was knocked out cold.

* * *


	21. Time

As satisfying as she thought it would be at first, seeing John Seed tied up to a chair in the back room of the Church wasn't as satisfying as she imagined.

Charlotte stood idly at the door, admiring the purple shiner across his cheekbone courtesy of herself, but unable to keep the guilt festering inside her. Now would be the perfect time for her apathy to kick in, she hoped it would, but as she leaned against the door frame, hands fisted into the pockets of her jeans, she couldn't help but feel bad for the youngest Seed.

Sure, he was a dick, but as she was once (or many times) in that position, she knew how it felt. To be stripped of your power, to be rendered immobile to the enemy. Charlotte stood up straighter as she watched John roll his neck, blinking warily around the room before his gaze landed on her. She expected hatred, anger, disgust - anything but the happiness that lit up his eyes, like gasoline on a lit fire.

"Miss Dunn, I did not peg you for someone who was into rope play." He smiled a crooked smile, canines sharp under the florescent light bulb in the center of the room. She smiled back and shrugged, feeling a creak in her bones, the air of the room stagnant and warm. 

"I guess we didn't get to that part of the confession, John." 

"No, we sure _did not_." They stared at one another, regarding the other, perhaps pondering the fact that their positions were reversed as Charlotte stood watch by the door. John eventually broke eye contact, looking down at his shirt and frowning at the blackened fabric before his gaze returned back to her, piercing.

"Do you know how much this cost?" Charlotte stepped forward slightly for a better look at his shirt, as if she hadn't been staring at him prior to waking up and shrugged once again before stepping back against the door frame.

"Sale rack at Walmart?" His smile returned in full force, mocking and crooked on his face as he let out a laugh, rolling his shoulders back as much as he could. Charlotte's eyes flickered to his hands strapped to his sides by the rope, his fingers beginning their tail tale dance across the outside of his thighs - he was thinking, _always thinking._

"So, my darling, how do you think this is going to go? Good cop, bad cop? Come on, give me a _hint._ " He leaned forward, the light above him somehow making the shade of blue in his eyes darker, the shadows deepening, making him almost menacing. A shiver ran up Charlotte's spine as she straightened herself, arms folded in front of her, her hands gripping her elbows.

"It's not up to me to decide that, John." He leaned back in his chair and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling and exposing his neck to Charlotte, who kept her eyes trained on his adam's apple, watching it bob with every swallow and breath as John tried to keep his anger under control. In all fairness to him, he was doing exceptionally well which wasn't what she expected. 

"Wasn't I good to you, Charlotte?" His voice crooned as he continued to stare up at the ceiling before he rolled his head downwards, tilting it to his right shoulder, eyes half-lidded and face blank. She didn't dignify him with a response, choosing to stay silent, maintaining eye contact with him, but unable to keep her fingers from nervously dancing across her elbows. 

"Hm? Mute now, are we?" He hummed, clenching his jaw with an audible click before a smile crept on his face, predatory. "You did get me quite good, honey. Who would have thought you were so _strong_. I mean, I did, but you just reminded me _how much I missed you_."

Charlotte was thankful for the awful lighting of the room, or else he would have caught her face immediately flushing under the compliment. She unwound herself, her hands making their way back into her pockets before she let out a small cough, leaning back onto the frame of the door. 

"Is that so?" She muttered, finally looking away from him, choosing to stare at a landscape painting on the far wall instead. From her periphery, she could see his fingers continue their drumming against his leg, the glinting of rings under the light almost distracting. 

"You know, Charlotte." He began, his voice deepening and catching her off guard. "I wish I knew you before this. You have so much potential. At first, I thought you were just some meek little imbecile, but you really did surprise me."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" Charlotte stepped forward, closer as he nodded, his gaze piercing through her like a bliss bullet. She stood only a few feet away from him as she looked down at him, looking at the redness under his skin that she could see from where he was tugging his body against the ropes, his tattoo's exposed staring up at her, eyes trailing down the skin she could see. 

"Do you know how close I was, Charlotte? To having you?" Her eyes snapped back to his, to the grin spread across his face and she frowned, all thoughts going through her mind vanishing, a fly caught in his web. She didn't answer, but that didn't stop him from continuing. 

He leaned forward as much as he could, trying to close distance as his voice crooned lowly, the deep baritone shooting through her veins like heroin. 

"My little Helen of Troy, you were the cause of so many arguments between my brothers and I, about how you belong with me."

"Funny, Jacob said the same thing, but not with you." The retort left her mouth before she could think, and she schooled her face quickly into a blank state before he could see her cringe on her face. His fingers stopped drumming against his legs as he stared up at her, his face just as blank as hers for only a moment before his trademark grin split onto his face.

"You're his soldier, nothing more. In spirit, mind and body, however, _you're meant to be mine_." He ended his sentence with a low growl as the door opened behind her, light spreading through the room. Charlotte thanked whoever the fuck was looking out for her for the interruption as she turned, a familiar cocky gait strolling into the room.

"Good work, Cookie. I'll take it from here though." Rook gave her a pat on her shoulder, excusing her from the room. She turned heel and bolted out, her boots a rhythmic thump against the wooden flooring of the Church as she rounded the corner, walking into the main hall and past the pews. 

* * *

Charlotte sat at her seat in what was left of the Spread Eagle, sipping on a beer as she stared forward in a day dream. Mary May, sporting her own battle wounds of her own, sat next to her, head resting on the bar counter, arms folded in front of her. They had been sitting there for so long without speaking, but it wasn't needed - they were both exhausted. 

Charlotte didn't turn when she heard the door to the bar open, choosing to close her eyes instead and try to figure out who it was by the footsteps. A warm hand clapped on her shoulder and she smiled, looking towards it to see Rook smiling, warm and bright.

"Good work, ladies - take the night off." Mary May let out a laugh before lifting her head and smacking Rook at the back of his with a half-hearted swing before he rounded the duo and sat next to them, regarding them both with a comforting smile.

"How was the Henbane?" Charlotte muttered into the lip of her beer, watching as Rook's face contorted slightly, looking away from them towards the window of the bar behind them. 

"It's safe now, darl." Mary May sat up straighter, her face serious.

"You mean, she's...?" Rook nodded, solemn, never looking away from the window as the afternoon light streamed through, highlighting the broken glass and wood within the room. Mary May sighed, running a hand through her hair before getting up from the bar stool and walking around the counter. Dipping under the counter, Charlotte could hear a few clinks, followed by Mary May straightening herself back up, sliding over a beer to Rook. 

He nodded again as thanks, taking a swig before he turned back to Charlotte, face no longer holding any emotion.

"Faith isn't with us anymore, Cookie." Charlotte nodded, taking another sip of her beer as a strange emotion fell over the three of them. The small blonde didn't know what to feel with the information, Faith never wronged her, was always kind to her, but that couldn't be said about the others in the county.

This made Charlotte think about Jacob, John and Joseph - when they die, what would come of it? How would she feel? She didn't know, but at the mere thought of John or Jacob dying made her gut twist, like a towel being wrung. She felt a frown settle on her face as she sat by Rook and Mary May. 

She killed and injured many herself, why would them losing their lives leave such a bitter taste in her mouth? _It's because they helped you become who you are now. They gave you strength._ Grandmother Evie's voice echoed in the back of her mind and Charlotte had to shake her head to rid the thought out her. That would mean she cared about them, and that is a Pandora's box she didn't want to open.

"Charlotte." Rook's voice broke her from her musings and she turned to him, he never used her name unless it was serious. 

"There is something big comin', and I think you should head to check on Staci to make sure they're ready." She sat the beer down on the counter, running her fingers over the labelling, steadying her nerves.

"By myself?" He nodded, taking another swig of beer before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Hudson, Whitehorse, Pratt and I will be heading to Joseph soon, and I'd feel better if you were looking after the Wolf's Den in Staci's absence." 

"What about Eli?" A flicker of something entered and left Rook's gaze like lightning before he shook his head and she didn't press further, knowing from that action that Eli was gone. She nodded and stood up from her bar stool, rolling her shoulders back and clicking her neck.

"When do you want me to go?" 

"As soon as possible, Charlotte." She nodded again, slowly, drinking in his authoritative demeanor before turning away and walking towards the stairs, a mixed bag of emotions trailing contorting across her body as she stalked up the stairs and opening the door to her temporary home. 

Walking to her bed, she slid out a half-empty rucksack and began to pile in clothes, books, shoes, anything she thought she would need for the trip, her mind replaying Rook's words over and over as she tried to overanalyze them. Tugging the bag strap over her shoulder, she spotted her baseball bat by the door, gripping the handle with ease as she made her way out of the room without a second thought. 

Rook and Mary May hadn't moved from their spot as she emerged, all packed and ready to go, rigid with confusion and nerves. Rook was sending her away, into Jacob's territory, what was going _on?_

She gripped her bag strap tightly, as she stood like a soldier waiting for an order. Rook finished his beer, placing the bottle down on the counter with an audible clack before standing and walking towards her. It was in that moment that Charlotte could see the grey of his five o'clock shadow, the deepened lines on his face, the scars. He was just as exhausted as she was. 

He slid his hand into his jeans and retrieved car keys, dangling them in front of her for her to grab like a parent would a child and she had to jump slightly to swipe them from him, earning a laugh from the man. She frowned as he patted her head, smoothening the blonde strands down from her crown and tucking the loose ones from her bun behind her ear. 

"You're a good kid, Charlotte. Everything is gonna be fine."   
  
"What's going on, Rook? What if Jacob finds me--" His hand wound around the back of her neck, stroking comfortingly. It was an intimate motion, but she knew there was no romantic feelings behind it, it felt like how a parent would comfort a child.

"Jacob's got his own problems to worry about, Cookie. Just make sure you get to the Wolf's Den, and make sure they're all set up okay." 

"Why do I get the feeling you're not being honest with me, Rook?" He smiled down at her, removing his hand away and stepping back, giving her a shrug. Charlotte frowned before turning to Mary May and giving her a wave, earning a warm smile from the other blonde in return.

"See ya when I see ya, hun." Charlotte smiled before turning back to Rook, who had sat back down at the counter, his trademark smirk in place.

"Right, well, guess I'll be going. I'll radio you when I'm there, Rook." She turned on her heel and paced towards the door, not before Rook's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Sam." She turned, confused and he raised another beer bottle in her direction before taking a swig. "Name's Sam." 

She nodded, a small smile drifting onto her face before she turned towards the door, stepping out into the afternoon sunshine. 

* * *

Charlotte's fingers tapped against the steering wheel as she made her way towards the Wolf's Den. She knew she would eventually need to ditch the blue truck before she actually got there, not wanting to risk Jacob knowing where the Den was, but let's face it, he already probably knew. 

The window of the truck was down and she extended her arm out of it, relishing the feel of cool wind against her finger tips as she travelled down the road. It had been so long since she had driven a car, it felt like a mere luxury, she felt kind of free, even though that was completely the opposite of her position right now.

She leaned back into the warm leather of the seat and laughed at the sight of her in the wing mirror, her feet barely managed the pedals of the truck, she probably couldn't even be seen over the steering wheel as she made her way down the road, but she didn't care, relishing the luxury of her temporary freedom. Her leash had been extended slightly in Hope County, she felt like she could breathe again.

The afternoon sun was beginning to dim as she paused to break at an intersection, not too far away from the beginning of the Whitetails. Coming to a complete stop, she chose the moment to fiddle with the radio of the car, before checking the intersection to see if she could cross. In a split moment, a feeling of dread erupted over her as she watched a white van, the Eden's Gate cross painted across the hood, speed towards her, colliding with her vehicle in an ugly symphony of twisted metal. 

It was almost as if she were in slow motion, watching the various objects flow around the room of the cab, some could almost say that it was beautiful. It stopped within an instant, as Charlotte's head plummeted towards the steering wheel, hitting it with a sickening crack, blackening her vision for an instant as voices began to echo through her head. 

"You fuckin' idiot! We were meant to swap the fuckin' cars with John, why the fuck did you do that for?" She winced at the screech of the man's voice, lifting her head from the steering wheel and grimacing at a sharp pain in her shoulder. She felt the area and frowned, a piece of glass cutting her hand as it stood from her shoulder, glinting in the sun.

"She's the whole fuckin' reason that we needa get John in the first place! The sinner gotta fuckin' pay." Blinking her eyes, she tried to open the door to stumble out, falling flat onto the concrete of the road as a pain in her ankle tore through her. From the fall, she felt the glass impale further into her shoulder and she let out a groan, feeling tears begin to well up in her eyes as she rolled onto her back to stare up at the sky, the debris of the crash littered around her. 

A screech of tyres and a hum of an engine came to a stop nearby as Charlotte tilted her head from the sky, eyes trained on the red van that had pulled to a stop. A cultist stepped out, shaking his head as he stalked forward.

"What the fuck, Glen? We were meant to be switching cars after we got John? We aint got time for your shit!" Her eyes widened, the pain of her ankle and shoulder forgotten as she ingested the information. _What?_

"Did you get 'im?" Glen stepped forward to the driver who nodded, a sigh falling from his lips as he lit a cigarette, taking a drag out of it and puffing it to the side.

"Yeah, had to wait for the Dep to leave before we just fuckin' stormed the gates again, but story time can come after man, the time has come." The men who had driven into her nodded, walking towards their own truck and digging through it's contents as the driver tucked the cigarette in between his teeth, regarding her with a frown. 

"What's the hold up?" A voice crooned from behind him and Charlotte squinted, watching none other than John Seed begin to limp towards their direction. She squirmed immediately, pushing herself up and dragging her body with the intent of hiding herself behind the wreckage but as soon as she struggled to move, John's eyes caught the movement as he regarded her broken form on the concrete. 

Slowly he stalked forward, waving to the driver to get behind the wheel as he limped closer to her, bruises littering his neck and face, his lip split open, Charlotte observed as he got closer. The two men of the other truck collected their things and walked towards John, smiles wide on their faces as he stared blankly down at her. 

"We got her, sir." John turned to them with a sigh, spitting on the ground by their feet before motioning for them both to step closer with two fingers. The men obliged immediately, looking between themselves with pride as John slipped his fingers into his pants pocket, while his other hand gripped the back of the neck of one of the men. 

"You certainly did." John smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes as he stroked the neck of the man, who returned his smile eagerly. Without further warning, John lunged, a glint of silver under the afternoon light the only warning as he stabbed the throat of the cultist, a ferocious motion. Before the other could register what was happening, he let go of the first man and lunged again, clipping the other in the side of the face with the knife before pulling him by his coat to the ground, stabbing and stabbing him in a state of anger that Charlotte had only seen a few times.

Screams echoed in the vicinity as Charlotte's eyes darted from the scene to the car John had arrived in, the driver watching idly from behind the wheel as he lit another cigarette. All Charlotte could smell was iron, and gas, and rubber, it consumed her as she desperately tried to scoot herself away from John who continued his rampage on the two men. 

Eventually, John stopped, the screams dying as blood painted him, his whole form covered from head to toe of blood. He huffed before standing up, wiping the blade on the clothes of one of the Cultists before turning to her, stalking towards her with as much grace as he could manage with a limp in his leg. He stood over Charlotte, his legs on either side of her body as he knelt down over her, regarding the large shard of glass through her shoulder with an expression of pity before he pocketed the knife and leaned forward to cradle her head in his palms.

Bringing her body up to meet his half way, he leaned his forehead against hers, his thumbs stroking her cheeks, wiping tears from her face that she hadn't realised had fallen as he shushed her, comforted her. 

"It's time, Charlotte. The Collapse is here." He muttered against her skin, his breath like feathers across her lips as he held her. "Joseph says I can't take you with me, darling. He says I have a son I need to take care of. He says you don't belong next to me in Eden." 

She nodded again, feeling another tear slide down her face as realisation began to set in. She was going to die today. John tilted her head back up to him to make sure her eyes were trained on his as he wiped the tear away, his face void of emotion.

"I wish it had been you, not Holly, Charlotte. I'll have to live with that. Sacrifices." She nodded as his thumb brushed against her lips and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers deeply, his fingers tangled in her hair as he kissed her with passion she hadn't seen him possess in a long time. Her hands came up to his and tangled themselves in his shirt as he kissed her, another tear falling from her closed eyes. 

"I'm so sorry, Charlotte." He finally muttered against her lips before carefully laying her flat back down on the concrete and standing up, sobs beginning to wrack Charlotte's body as he began to limp away from her, out of sight and into the red van. She looked up at the sky, the red light painting the sky in a beautiful mixture of red and purple. 

The van passed her slowly as it made its way through the intersection and she didn't have the heart to look at it go, exhaustion riddling her as she stared up. If John was out, that means Rook -- Sam, all of them, were gone. Too far away to help her. 

She wasn't sure if Mary May or anyone in Fall's End could get to her, or even if they were alive, and she was still too far away from the Wolf's Den for them to get to her in time. That left only one option for her.

Using one arm to prop herself up against her vehicle, she looked into the open door and spotted her radio by the floor of the passenger side, and with the last of her energy, she dragged herself towards it, her ankle screaming at her to stop and the glass in her shoulder continuing to stab into her. 

Charlotte breathed a deep breath as her fingers fumbled with the debris in the passenger seat, releasing it when her hand gripped the radio and she fell back against the side of the van, legs splayed out in front of her as she stared at it in her hands.

Switching it on, she fumbled with the signals, noting siren sounds erupting from several channels, obnoxiously cutting through the quiet of the area before it landed on one she knew in particular.

"J-Jacob." She muttered into the speaker, her voice foreign to her. "Jacob, are you t-there?" She hastily wiped her tears away with the back of her hand before leaning back against the metal of the van, her head hitting it with a dull thump. There was a light crackle of the radio, as if he was listening to her, but he didn't reply, causing Charlotte to laugh, cackling into the quiet of the dusk, feeling the whole situation to be ironic.

"J-Jake, I'm hurt pretty bad." She whispered into the radio, feeling her vision dim in and out of view. "I wanna come home." Her voice cracked as she dropped the radio into her lap, staring up at the waning sky as her vision began to blacken. 

"Where are you, Charlotte?"


	22. Epilogue

When Charlotte awoke, it was the second time that day she had breathed in stagnant air, the musk of the dirt underneath the cot she was in made her sneeze a few times, agitating the wound in her shoulder before she remembered her last moments at the intersection, jolting upwards regardless of the pain that shot through her body.

She looked around the room - concrete, dark, lit only by one lone candle, and patted herself down, checking herself for anything out of the ordinary. Satisfied, she swung her legs gingerly over the side of the cot and stretched, wincing again at the wound and her ankle. Gently, she lifted her injured ankle upwards for closer inspection, feeling the splint and the bandages that were carefully laced around it. She wiggled her toes, satisfied to see at least the outline of them moving under the lack of light. Another cough wracked her body and she refused the urge to spit out the phlegm that had collected in the back of her throat, giving her chest a hearty thump a few times instead. 

In the quiet of the room, footsteps echoed towards her, calculated steps that she knew off by heart, and her heart lifted minutely every time the sound got closer, got louder to her room. She waited with baited breath as Jacob walked in, clicking his knuckles in between his palms and staring down at her from the doorway.

They stared at one another for a few moments, only a few shuffles here and there from the wind outside to break the silence between them before Jacob stepped forward into the room, walking towards her slowly. When he made it to her, he lifted his hands and gently cusped her face, tilting it from side to side inspecting it before stroking the back of her head, smoothening down her bed hair. Charlotte let out the breath she had been holding slowly, feeling her lungs deflate like balloons in her chest before she decided to speak.

"You came..." Her voice came out in a rasp, and Jacob didn't respond, only giving her a curt nod in the candlelight as he continued to comb his fingers through her hair. She leaned forward into his grasp, and then winced under the pressure she has put on her ankle. Catching her wince, Charlotte didn't have to see it to know he was probably rolling his eyes at her. Frowning, she cupped his hand that was against her cheek, bringing it away from her as she tried to stand. He gripped her elbow and pulled forward, steadying her as she tested her injured ankle against the cold concrete.

"Is my ankle brok--"

"No, you're just a baby." His voice rumbled through her, shooting straight through her like thunder, and she sent him a light punch to his shoulder with her uninjured arm. A deep chuckle reverberated through the room and before she knew it, Jacob had scooped her up in his arms gently, carrying her like a new bride out of the room and down the hall way which was lit with candles. It could have been slightly romantic, if he wasn't who he was, and she wasn't who she was.

He continued forward in silence, eloping her with his presence, protection - Charlotte didn't want to admit it, but she felt somewhat safe with him, after all that had happened. John left her on the side of the road, Rook-- Sam, left her to help the Whitetails, she needed stability, and in her pain addled mind, she couldn't help but feel like that was what Jacob had offered the whole time.

Florescent light beamed down at them as they entered a new corridor, concrete walls barren, the rooms around them quiet as they continued their trek through the bunker. Eventually, Jacob took a sharp turn into a room on the right at the end of the corridor, into a room full of old camera equipment and monitors. The monitors blinked periodically, their black and white footage jolting with life as Jacob set her down gently. 

"Try not to blow this room up." He muttered as he pulled a metal chair in front of the monitors, the screech of its hinges like nails on a chalkboard before settling down. He looked at her expectantly before he patted his lap and Charlotte frowned, crossing her arms over her chest at his request. He raised his eyebrows up and with another sudden slap to his thigh, she limped forward, settling herself down on top of him facing the monitors, his arms caging around her as he typed in a few commands into the computer. 

She watched as the screens flickered several times before settling on a vacant building, the sun rising in the distance. Leaning forward, she recognised it as St Francis, but empty - no sign of life there. 

"Where is everybody?" 

"Waiting in their bunkers." Jacob sighed, one of his arms wrapping themselves around her waist, anchoring her to him while he perched his head on top of hers. 

"...waiting for what?" His arm tightened around her and she leaned back into him, flushed together. It was an intimate position, but considering he saved her life, and her exhaustion, she was done playing games. 

"You'll see, darl." She felt his breath against her ear and relished the heat of his body at her back as they stared forward, a nearby clock ticking in the silence. Feeling anxious, she wriggled a bit in Jacob's lap, who rewarded her a hard flick to her thigh and she turned to stare down at him, as much as her shoulder would allow, seeing a strange childlike look in his eye at her pout. Sucking in a small breath, she turned back around, swinging her legs to and from the chair idly as she watched the monitor.

"Why did you come get me?" She whispered before she even realised she had asked.

"You asked." Jacob answered immediately, his fingers twitching against the skin of her stomach. She hummed, staring at the sun continuing to rise on St Francis via the screen.

"How did you find me?"

"Never let you out of my sight, at least not for long." She couldn't help the small smile on her face.

"Of course you didn't." Slowly, Jacob's other arm wound around her waist as he pulled her closer in his lap, cocooning her as they continued to watch the screen, their breathing synchronised together. Softly, he began to hum a song, one she remembered as a kid, but couldn't quite remember as she felt lulled by the lullaby, her eyes beginning to droop. Sensing her exhaustion, he gave her another hard flick to the thigh, waking her up completely and she huffed, staring forward at the monitor.

"Did you know John left me to die?" Charlotte whispered, even though they were the only ones in the room. He hummed, confirming it as he tucked her hair behind her shoulder, checking the bandages on her injured one with a once-over before settling his head in the crook of her neck. 

"Joseph wouldn't have allowed it, darl. He's lucky he got this far." 

"I see..." She muttered, her hands wrapping around Jacob's arms as they continued to watch the screens. In the corner of the monitor, small white blips began to appear in the distance, and Charlotte blinked a few times to register what they were before the screen erupted into blinding white, illuminating the room. Upon impact, the room shook violently, Charlotte gripped onto Jacob and screeched as objects began to fall off shelves, several crashes occurred outside the room and concrete began to fall in crumbs and chunks from the ceiling. 

Ignoring the pain in her body, she turned and buried her face into Jacob's neck, but he continued to stare forward and watch the monitors intently, his eyes glued in a somewhat twisted fascination at the violence around him, and the ever glowing monitors in front of them. Charlotte coughed when the rumbles began to reside, dusting concrete off of her face and hair as she slowly pivoted around to the monitor, mouth opening and leaned forward as she stared at it.

It was desolate, there was nothing left to stare at. The white flashes were of fire, animals running around ablaze, before the camera fizzed out completely, leaving the room dimly lit by the florescent light of the corridor behind them. Charlotte felt her fingers dig into Jacob's shoulders as she continued to stare forward at the now dark monitor before she turned to him, mouth still agape. Jacob blinked,, unwinding his arms from Charlotte before running a trembling hand through his hair and over his face.

"He was right." He muttered, looking to the side of the room, with a look that was almost sad. Slowly pivoting in his lap, she cupped his face to stare at her again, running her thumb over a bit of dust that had fallen on his cheek.

"What the fuck just happened, Jacob?" Her voice came out deep and cracked as the shock lingered in her bones, the ever present numbness settling in her. She knew what happened, she just wanted him to say it.

"The Collapse, darl." He muttered, leaning his forehead against hers and breathing deeply, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around her waist again, bringing her forward into a hug. "The end of the world..." 

She didn't know what to say as they cradled one another, the exhaustion of the last couple of months, or maybe years, finally letting her sink into him, all of her feelings melting away. All of the pain, the happiness, the suffering, the chaos, the _wrath_ she felt dissipated.

All she felt now was indifference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who came for this ride, I do plan on revisiting a few chapters to improve them, but I really appreciate all of your wonderful comments, it's made writing this story a total joy. I do plan on making a New Dawn segment, because I do love me some FC: ND, but I really appreciate you all. <3
> 
> Follow me on tumblr, would love to chat with you all! :)


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